Gambling
by JustBFree
Summary: Christine is a night dancer that's caught Erik's eye... Rated for language and sexual content.
1. The Stage Show

Erik waited patiently in the shadows; his position was hidden from the patron audience. This had become a nightly ritual, a new part of a carefully ordered routine. He would wake, dress, and then create music for hours on end, but only recently had he begun to watch the girl. It was unusual for him to take much notice of the goings on around him. He ignored others, and others had been happy to ignore him.

It had been a mutual agreement for years.

But then, _that girl_ had appeared and upset his equilibrium. Erik glanced at his watch. The show was set to begin in mere minutes, already he could feel anticipation build in his chest, a strange sense of excitement that was foreign to him.

_Come on, hurry up back there_, he urged silently as he checked his watch again. Five nights a week the show went on promptly at ten o'clock. There had been opening acts, but _she_ was the star; she was a gem tarnished by a difficult life, yet she shined all the brighter for it.

He had often wondered what it was that this Christine Daae did for enjoyment on the days when she was free from the stage. Did she have any remaining family? Her parents were gone, but perhaps there was a younger sibling. Did Christine have a lover that she had kept secret?

The thought rankled Erik more than he cared to admit. _Only three more minutes until showtime…_

Erik moved down and changed his position for a better view, moving behind the audience so as not to be seen. It wouldn't do to steal her spotlight and upset the manager, would it? He moved as close to the stage as he could for a better view; no one could see him from where he was, but instinctively he kept to the shadows behind mirrors.

The music came alive, the curtains were lifted, and the girls came to enthusiastic greeting by the audience. Their feet padded over the polished stage, and they moved to their posts. Erik's eyes searched their faces, ignoring the bodies on display. _Where is she?_

His eyes darted back and forth, but it was difficult to locate her with all the movement and colorful lights. She was not at the curtain, not at stage left or right, where had she gone? He had seen her arrive earlier, he'd heard nothing of her becoming ill before curtain call, so where was the girl?

He searched for her. Then…_there!_

Erik watched as Christine took her place and began to dance to the eager, devouring delight of her audience. He hated watching her as she gyrated on the stage, her nude body on display for the hungry eyes of the gambling customers. She gripped the metal pole and writhed against it with a sensual smile on her glossy lips. Her body arched backward until her pale blonde hair brushed the stage floor; her long legs twined around the pole, her feet encased in cheap, clear plastic high-heels.

The men crowded around her and littered bills onto the stage. Christine kneeled down to be eye-level with her audience and she began to writhe her slim hips in a grotesque mimic of sex. She cupped her naked breasts and ran manicured nails down her sides, along her loins and thighs.

A man, more daring than the rest, reached to her. Erik's hands tightened into fists as he watched the customer slip a $100 bill into the thin strap of her thong. Christine glanced down to see the amount of money and she smiled that cunning grin Erik recognized far too well.

She leant forward and whispered to the man with the brave hands who'd touched her. They spoke for a moment and then they both nodded in agreement. The man stood and crossed the room, heading towards a section reserved for the higher-profile clients. Christine continued to dance for fifteen more minutes. Erik watched her dance with impassive expression. _Why do you do this to yourself…?_

Christine then descended the stage and followed the same path that the man had taken, into the seclusion of the back rooms. Erik sighed and glanced down to his watch. May would want to see him soon to go over the new schedule.

* * *

"Still after that girl, are you Erik?" May asked.

They were above the audience, in her office. Two-way mirrors served as her windows into the club below them; here they were invisible, while nothing that happened below would be able to escape security's notice. Certainly nothing escaped May's; the woman must have eight eyes, six of them hidden somewhere within the mass of her badly dyed hair. She had an addiction to home hair color- this month's color was christened _Radiant_ _Ruby_ on the box, but from what Erik could see, it should have been labeled _Brassy Rust_.

Erik shook his head. "What ever gave you that idea? I've never even spoken to her,"

May shot him a knowing look. "Many things I am, but blind ain't one of them. If you like her, Erik, all you have to do is ask. I'm sure that with a little coaxing I could arrange a special night for you."

"May!"

She held up a hand and rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it. You knew what that girl was when she walked in the door. She might turn down customer offers- _as far as we know_- but don't let that fool you into thinking she's some kind of pure saint. If the money's right, I could have her in your room tonight, Erik, chained to the bed and awaiting her master's punishment,"

Erik sat down and sighed. "Must you be so vulgar?"

May ignored his disapproval. "Yes, I must. And if you're suddenly sensitive to vulgarity, then what the hell are you doing here? This isn't the opera or one of your fancy ballets. This is a strip joint. High class, I'll admit it, and without you I'd probably still be in Louisiana, still waiting for my FEMA trailer to arrive. I owe you big, more than my life. I want you to be happy, but I don't think you'll ever be happy watching the girl of your dreams give lap dances to the Johns downstairs. Stop torturing yourself, Erik."

Erik scowled. "Leave me alone, May. I didn't come to be badgered. Tell me about the schedule,"

May sighed lightly and poured him a drink- a whiskey on the rocks- and retrieved the sheet from her file cabinet. She handed it to him. "Remember when I saw your apartment for the first time? I told you that I could have fit my entire house in the living room. I wasn't exaggerating and you know it. You could get any girl in New York and you deserve better than that bottle-blonde pole dancer. She's no better than any of the others down there, peddling her ass for next month's rent. She's nothin' but a trick."

Erik folded the new schedule and slipped it into his pocket. He didn't feel like arguing. "You're wrong about her May, and just for the record: that blonde is natural."

He slipped out of her office and took the employee exit the same way that he'd come into the club; it was a tunnel that followed along the perimeter of the entire club. It ran along all three levels of the building from the main entrance to behind the bar and even behind the secret back room. Mirrors lined the walls of the club interior, forming two-way mirrored windows into every facet of the facility.

The bartenders never gave away free drinks or stole shots themselves for fear of being seen. Eyes were always watching behind the walls at **Mama V's Dancing Dolls**. Erik ignored the club as he passed it by. He had no interest in the girls on the main stage, the table dancers or the bartenders. He pulled on his gloves and readied himself for the harsh cold that awaited him outside.

The tunnel was dimly lit, it had to be to prevent those in the club from knowing they were being watched- there was a lot to be said for a false sense of privacy. More money changed hands when the customers were comfortable, which May had planned on when she explained her idea of the mirrors to Erik. He only liked it for the privacy it afforded him when he went in and out of her office.

Erik paused on his way out and moved closer to the glass that gave him a view into the back room. Christine was there with her man from the stage. She was smiling and running her hands over the man's chest, giving him the show he'd paid for. She writhed her body against his, simulating carnal desire, as if she was truly enjoying herself. Erik knew better, there was something about her eyes…

He felt sick watching her debase herself like a whore.

Erik turned away from the scene and stepped out into the cold.


	2. May Has A Plan, Erik Has A Dream

**Author's Note: This is a "background chapter", chapter 3 will lead more into the actual plot. I'd like a review, please...**

* * *

May reviewed the papers in front of her and she did not like what she saw. Erik had given her more than enough money to create an upscale facility, but his generosity however, was a loan that he expected to be repaid, with interest.

It had been shortly after she'd contacted him that they had begun to collaborate on ideas that would draw customers. Erik was no fool, he knew the drawing power of a pretty face, but it had been May who'd ranted and demanded that he loosen up and allow her to open **Dancing Dolls** as a strip club.

Erik had had a vision of a true New York gentlemen's club. Blackjack tables, cards, cognac, cigars, live music, the whole nine. May had dismissed his ideas as antiquated and ditched the drawings he'd sketched of a men's lounge and replaced them with neon lights and vinyl booth tables. Erik's dream had died with the flip of a coin, but he couldn't argue with the profits that the club pulled in on a nightly basis.

Profits that Maywas obligated to share with him- he had funded the entire operation, after all, so what choice did she have?

Well, the club was pulling in record numbers, and every employee was paid very handsomely- the dancers remarkably so. There were always at least fifteen girls asking after her for a job, but the schedule was full, and they weren't hiring. Erik's pockets were getting fuller while she was still paying off the damages that hurricane Katrina had inflicted on her life back when she'd lived in New Orleans, in addition to her monthly payment to Erik.

May glanced down into the club from her office window and sneered as that girl- _Christine_- strode in through the front entrance, fifteen minutes before her shift was to start. Ironic that she wore so many layers to protect against the cold outside and the first thing she was meant to do upon arrival to work was to take them all off.

May rolled her eyes. How could Erik of all people, so sophisticated and elegant, even spare a little hussy like her a second look?

_Diamond, she calls herself._ _Stupid, stupid, stupid, but I suppose that name is no worse than the others. Summer, Cinnamon, Candi, Heaven…stupid girls and their goddamn stage names! _

May wondered what it was about Diamond that Erik found so intriguing. It couldn't just be her body. Sure, the girl met with the club's standards for height, weight and measurements- she was miles ahead of your average girl on the street, but what could a dumb stripper offer a man like Erik? He was a walking encyclopedia while she could barely spell her own name!

_He must have some designs on that girl- maybe I've excited some ideas into him with that joke about slave and master bedroom games. Erik has been good to me, better than any other man; I can't stand seeing him like this, all tied up in knots over a tramp who doesn't even know he's alive. Strippers are only in this for the money; they don't see men, all they see are dollar signs._

Still, if Erik wanted something, shouldn't she do everything in her power to help him attain it? May reasoned to herself that if Erik wanted this gem, then Diamond should give herself to him immediately. May smiled. If Erik were to be preoccupied with Diamond, then she would be free to go about her own endeavors.

She eyed the tiny bag of cocaine resting on the corner of her desk.

The sex industry had a notoriously high turnover rate, she reasoned to herself. No one would question the loss of one nondescript girl. Outside of May, Erik and perhaps a handful of the other dancers, no one even knew Diamond's real name.

May was the only one who had possession of the girl's home address, supposing that she hadn't invited anyone over from the club- whether it was a propositioning customer or someone that she worked with; a bartender maybe, or even one of the other girls, if that's where her true interests lie.

She thought of what she knew about Erik- his fascination with the arts, his loneliness, and the simple fact that underneath it all, he was still a predictable man all pointed her to a simple scenario that would present Diamond to Erik on a silver platter.

If it was what he wanted, she aimed to give it to him. She wondered if, in exchange for the girl, he would drop what she owed him off the books.

* * *

Erik by nature was a reclusive character. His excuse for a face had prevented him of any desire to see and be seen like his elite colleagues. Occasionally he could be found in a corner table at a high-class wine bar, sipping merlot; or he might attend a charity fund dinner sponsored by one of his companies. He often visited New York's museums and art centers. Usually, though, he stayed in surrounded by his books, playing his piano or violin. Sometimes he liked to paint or just watch television.

Other times, he would go down to watch Christine at the club. He was perfectly aware how his fascination with her appeared to May, but he wasn't at all concerned. He didn't care if she thought he was just another horny guy obsessed with a sexy pole dancer. He knew himself better than that. May seemed to have it into her head that something was off with him being so interested in one dancer when the club boasted 20 nubile young ladies. Maybe she was right. There was just something about Christine that had snared his interest, but he was damned if he could explain why.

Erik remembered the first time he'd seen her.

It had been only one month before, right when the weather had begun to blow cold through the streets. From what he understood after asking May, it had been the girl's first day. Erik had walked in through the front public entrance and had glanced up at the stage- it had only been since seeing her that he'd opted to use the employee exit- he felt ashamed of himself, and he didn't want her to think he was like the other men who ogled her. He would watch her, and despite her nudity and the atmosphere, he rarely felt any lust for her.

Erik didn't know why he'd looked- for months he had walked in and out of the club without sparing the girls a glance. He had no interest in things so gratuitously displayed. But nonetheless, that day, he had just happened to look up and he'd seen her standing beside the stage.

The girl had been wearing a silver sequined bikini. The top was too small for her, and he remembered thinking that her thong must have been uncomfortable. Her face was lovely, as he'd seen it, but now that face was just a dim memory. Since that day, she had adopted the club standard and obscured the color of her eyes with the darkest shades of black, violet and blue eyeshadow she could find. Her lashes were always caked with mascara, those full lips obscenely slick with gloss.

They had locked eyes from across the room; her expression had been curious and assessing. There had been no judgment there, no mocking smile. She had simply looked into his eyes and let the corners of her lips curl into the smallest of smile of greeting. Erik had looked back at her and was ready to smile back when one of the other girls had called away her attention.

He'd continued on his way up to May's office and had then asked questions about their newest employee. He'd reviewed all the vital stats of the girl. Her name was Christine Daae, newly twenty-one. Her next birthday wouldn't be until the end of next October, she was born on Halloween.

May had a preference of hiring Scorpios; she believed that those born under the sign possessed more sensual spirits and thus had the makings of a higher quality entertainer.

Erik didn't like that way of thinking. He'd reviewed the newspaper horoscope on his own- Scorpios were subtle, not flashy. They were sensual water signs, not flamboyant exhibitionists. Erik had never spoken to Christine, but from the day he'd seen her, he had been interested. She was different from the rest of them. He wanted to see how she lived outside of the club, but he wasn't so obsessed that he would dream to follow her home. He was curious, not psychotic.

Perhaps it had just been too long since he'd had a woman. It was nearly six months since Adelle had left him, not that he had blamed her. Why would such a fantastic woman have wanted to be treated as a convenient bedmate and nothing more? Erik shrugged to himself. He had never allowed her to stay the night in his apartment, and he had never stayed with her through the night in her own home. She deserved better than to be treated as his physical convenience, she deserved true happiness. They had parted amicably, he'd wished her well, and she'd wished him some warmth to enter into his cold world.

Erik looked into his living room and imagined Christine with him there as he'd first seen her, with a bare face or, if she would insist on cosmetics, the least possible amount. In his mind, he replaced the silver thong bikini with an elegant, subtle dress. Or even better, a sweater and a pair of jeans. He would speak to her as a friend, not offer her propositions. He wanted to learn about her, just the simple things. What made her smile, what movies she preferred, if she had any pets.

Most people daydreamed of things altogether fantastic, and here he was dreaming of having mundane small talk with a girl who danced at his club!

Erik looked at the new schedule and saw that Christine was marked for Monday through Friday, leaving her to her own devices on the weekends. Did she enjoy sports or was she more of a reader like him? Perhaps she had mixed interests…

What did it matter?! He could not approach her, for reasons other than what lay behind the mask. For all he knew, May could be right. Christine, Diamond, could be just like all the others: a money-hungry little sneak. Erik admitted the possibility, but he felt no intuition that pointed to such a truth.

He didn't want Christine to see him as one of the other men- interested in her for nothing more than sex. If sex were all he craved, he was secure enough in himself that he could find pleasure when he felt the need. He wanted something...more from Christine, but he drew a blank as to why.

What he saw in her on that first day he could still see in her now; she was a girl forced to debase herself nightly because somewhere along the line, something in her life had gone terribly wrong. Erik aimed to find out what had happened to her, and to then save her. Foolish, he knew, but it was a strictly male urge to feel needed by a woman. He'd told May of his hopeful intentions for Christine two nights ago.

How was he to know that she would use his protective urge to her advantage?


	3. Trapped

**Author's Note: This is a peek behind the strip club scene; Erik and Christine come face-to-face. Please read and let me know what you think ;-)**

* * *

Christine settled into her chair, the fourth in line along the counter that ran the length of the back stage dressing room where all the girls readied themselves for the stage. There was plenty of loud gossip going on, and usually she would join in, but tonight Christine felt particularly worn out.

She sat down heavily and slid off her worn boots. Over four years old, they were her everyday shoes, and such constant punishment was easy to see. They were simple suede ankle boots, at one time they were at the height of fashion, but now Christine would be lucky if she could sell them for $5. The suede had several water spots, and the soles were starting to separate from the heel of the shoe. She slid them off and put them into a cubbyhole below the counter, then she massaged some hand lotion into her arches in the hopes of soothing the latest batch of blisters before she spent the rest of the night on her feet.

The other girls all flurried in activity around her, reminding Christine that she was not alone here, and there really was no time to waste. She brought out her makeup bag and began to layer on dark eyeshadow and mascara; standard dress code for her occupation. She lined her lips with dark red pencil before coating them with enough gloss to grease the mirror.

'_I hate this, but there is no other choice...'_

Christine shed all her layers of clothing and stepped into her usual work uniform: a pair of thong panties and a lacy bra that was painfully tight against her breasts. She squeezed her feet into a pair of clear plastic pumps. Clear heels, the most notorious sign of a woman that pole danced. She tried not to wince as they pinched her tender toes.

She took a hairbrush and ran it through her pale blonde hair. Frowning, Christine brushed out a tangled knot and groaned as she heard the hair break.

"Diamond, I don't know why you wear your hair so long, it's starting to look ragged,"

Christine glanced up and smiled at the same time she rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot, Cinnamon, how would I ever get by without you?"

Cinnamon adjusted her breasts within the tight vinyl confines of her Naughty Nurse costume. "You wouldn't be able to walk without someone telling you where to go first. I wasn't trying to be a bitch, but your hair looks like the end of a broomstick. Get yourself a trim tomorrow. Hey, how're my tits?"

Christine turned around in her chair to get a better look. The older woman cupped her breasts and squeezed them together. She sighed, "They look worth every penny, fantastic,"

Cinnamon laughed and began to slick glimmer lotion over her darkly tanned skin. At 34 years old, she was a beautiful woman, but her looks had a mean edge to them. She had been through a lot, her worlds of experience had given her a hard-bitten attitude; she was often harsh, angry, and ready to pick a fight over the smallest imagined insult. Christine didn't care for any of the girls there, but she had learned early on that the best way to deal with Cinnamon was to just agree with her.

"Hell yeah, the best five grand I ever spent." She looked Christine over. "You might want to think about implants in a few years. Gravity takes it's toll on us all, girl."

Christine frowned and placed her hands protectively over her chest. "Um…I'll think about it."

Summer poked her head out of a curtained-off section of the dressing room. "The guys pay more for the girls with tit jobs, Diamond. Give it a few weeks and they'll more than make up for the cost of it." She then emerged from the squared off section and posed to display her Naughty Angel costume, where her own surgically enhanced breasts were proudly on display. "You like it?"

Cinnamon raised her eyebrows. "Nice! You want to do a tag team tonight?"

Summer nodded and ran a hand through her gold hair. "You know it, let's go knock them dead!"

Diamond, Christine, lagged behind for just a moment more. She paused just long enough to review herself in the mirror. She touched her hair and had to admit that it was looking pretty ragged. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had it cut. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd done anything remotely good for herself.

There were dark circles hiding under the coat of concealer that she'd applied, just as there was mounting pain and disgust with herself hiding just under the surface of her smiles and the flirty talk she shared with her clients.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to alter her personality- to get through the night, she had to be Diamond in spirit, not just in name. The alarming anger melted away, quickly replaced with cool indifference and outright determination to earn as much money as she could while she was on the stage.

She began to hope for, rather than dread, a man to want a private dance with her.

Diamond stood from her chair and stepped around a group of other dancers who were adjusting the various pieces to their costumes: the wigs upon their heads, the tassels affixed to their breasts and the straps of their garters.

Diamond stepped past them and strode out onto the stage, to all appearances she was willing and even thrilled to be there dancing for the lusting crowd. She took over completely, ignoring the hard pangs felt in her chest, as Christine died a little more with each night of dancing.

* * *

Diamond wiped the sweat from her brow and took a few deep breaths to slow her pounding heart. There had been a bachelor party tonight, and she was sure that she had never worked harder. The men had been sweet enough, and she couldn't help smiling as she recalled the lucky groom. He'd at least had the decency to appear embarrassed as she'd danced for him in front of his friends.

She counted the bills she'd collected over the night and released a satisfied sigh. _'Almost $800 tonight! Hell, it's not like I didn't earn it,' _

"Diamond, you about danced your ass off tonight. Holy shit, where'd you learn to move your hips like that? Has Shakira been giving you lessons on the weekend or something?" Crystal demanded as she followed her into the dressing room.

Crystal slipped her long dark hair into a messy bun and quickly pulled on a shirt. More girls began to file into the dressing room, some completely nude, while others were merely topless. Christine felt no shame or embarrassment; she herself was naked from the waist up. It was no great thing to see the breasts of the other dancers, or for them to see hers. This was a strip club, after all.

She shrugged and stuffed the loose bills into the small pink purse that served the one purpose of holding her 'dirty dancing' money. "I just need the extra cash, and you know the best way to get it," she replied, pointing to a sign that was mounted above the dressing room door.

It was a gift from the manager, meant to inspire some form of motivation. It was neon pink, and always blaring the phrase, **To make it, You have to shake it!**

Crystal shrugged. "You said it, I made about $600 tonight, you can't beat that! The bachelor was a cutie, but his friend was even sweeter. Can you believe he actually asked me out?"

The other girls within earshot burst out laughing, as did Christine. "Did he really? What, did he think he owed you dinner after you spent half an hour grinding on his crotch or something?" Summer asked as she pulled a blue coat over her shirt.

Crystal laughed and smeared some cleansing cream over her face to remove her heavy makeup. She reached for a handful of tissues and wiped them over her face, not only ridding her face of the cream, but also the vibrant blush and eyeshadow she'd chosen for the night. What was revealed was the face of a fine-boned Asian woman; gentle and soft. She was beautiful, no one could deny her that, but she had not been beautiful enough to make it in the world of modeling, though she insisted that she went to several photographer meetings a week.

"I guess so. Poor kid, he thinks he could find a decent woman here! I turned him down gently, the sweet guy. But I'd feel bad if we were to date and when the time came, I'd ask him for money out of reflex, you know? When I date, I date guys who know the score- _we go out, he pays._ _He wants to fuck me, he pays_. I can't do anything with these Long Island kids that come in here with 200 bucks, thinking that will impress me." Crystal declared with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Christine wiped away her own makeup, and she avoided looking at her reflection. She knew what she looked like, and didn't want to confront the face of a woman who sold pieces of her soul every night. She wanted nothing more than to just grab something to eat and then go straight to bed.

She glanced at Cinnamon, whose exposed breasts were resting proud and high on her chest. "Cinnamon, have you ever dated a client?"

Cinnamon turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "Me, dating a client? Bitch, you must be on something!" she laughed. "Hell no- and I never would. You know why? They expect you to take your stripper-self with you when you come home," she turned to address the remaining women in the room. "When men know your stage personality, they think you'll be like that at home and in the bed too. No way, fuck that! My boyfriend thinks I work the Starbucks counter inside the Barnes & Noble on 5th and Lennox, and that's what he's gonna keep on thinking."

Candi removed her long red wig to reveal her natural black pixie-cut hair. "He thinks you serve coffee? How long do you think you can keep up that lie?"

Cinnamon shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I was lucky enough to meet me a nice man. He's sweet, but he's dumb. We've been together for a little over a year and all this time he's never wondered why I can't get him a damn discount," she laughed.

Christine smiled at Cinnamon's story and she reflected on the older woman's words. Amid the vulgarity lied a valid point: they were all completely different than what their stage personalities implied. They had lives outside of the club; they had other interests and people to be concerned with. She was no different than them, was she?

She zipped a red sweatshirt over her tank top and shoved her pink purse under one arm. Christine was about ready to leave but there was something on the counter that caught her eye. A little envelope rested in between a bottle of body glitter and a tube of lotion. Christine wondered if there was more money inside, or if it was just another note from a client offering her money for a _'night of her company'_.

Christine had become many things in the past year, and though she whored herself on the stage and in the private rooms, she couldn't find it in herself to be paid for sex. It would be the final nail in the coffin to declare to the world that, yes, she had hit rock bottom.

She unfolded the envelope and took out a short note that simply urged her to go to the manager's office directly after the long night shift was over. Christine sighed and wondered what was happening. Sudden fear gripped her. _'Oh God, what have I done? I haven't done anything to upset the other girls, have I? If I lose this job…calm down, calm down, it's probably nothing, just relax and see what May wants…'_

Christine shrugged into her cheap windbreaker and regretfully turned down Summer and Candi's invitation for the traditional after-hours meal at the IHOP down the street. Christine gathered up all her things and mounted the staircase that would take her up to the office.

* * *

"I see you're quite the popular lady around here," May began once Christine settled into the chair before her desk. "Butterscotch?" she offered Christine the candy bowl from her desk.

Christine nodded, took a piece and popped it into her mouth.

"I saw you working that bachelor party down there- our security cameras never miss a thing. Good job. Anyway, I'm not here for the small talk. There's a man I want you to meet tonight." May glanced at her watch. "I know it's late. Hell, it's coming up on two-thirty in the morning! It doesn't matter, we're all night owls here, aren't we? Go to this address. The man is very important and very interested in you,"

Christine felt rebellion and anger roar within her. _'I'm nobody's whore- I won't let you sell me to the highest bidder,'_

"Ms. Valerious, May, I think I need to explain something," Christine began, keeping her voice as level as she could. "Some of the other girls might do that, but I don't, and I never will."

May narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Listen here, _Diamond_, don't be puttin' your twat on such a high pedestal, all right? Unless you've forgotten, you earned over $700 tonight by shakin' your tits in at a room full of strangers. If you want to live all high and mighty inside of your head, then by all means do, but don't think for one second that I'll be impressed with your sense of dignity. You're a stripper, nothin' but a pole dancer."

Christine felt that she was naked once again, stripped bare by May's cutting words. There was nothing she could say to defend herself, was there? Everything May had said was absolutely true.

The memories she'd tried to block from this past month came back to her in a rush- the smiling, lusting men grabbing at her, reaching to touch her breasts, to pull on her scant underwear to reveal the last uncovered piece of her body, and all the while, Diamond had smiled and encouraged their leering faces. She had smiled and beckoned them to toss more money, always more money onto the stage in return for her body…

"And for whatever reason, you've caught the interest of a friend of mine. He's a lonely guy, and he'd like your company tonight. If you're worried about gettin' slapped around, don't be. I know the guy, he funded this club. He'd never hurt a girl, especially not you." May tried to reassure her. "For some reason, he thinks you hung the moon. He wants to see you- if you don't go and pay him a visit, you can find yourself another job, but good luck. Word travels fast. You refuse this and no other club will take you, I can promise you that."

With May's promise echoing in her ears, Christine clutched the slip of paper tightly as she navigated the way towards the address written on it. _'Why am I doing this…?'_

The air was biting and harsh- New York winters were brutal, she knew that, but it wasn't until recently that she knew how horrible it could be without a coat. The walk took a long while- a train ride and over 20 minutes of walking the steel city streets had already given her plenty of time to think, yet she knew that she was trapped, there was no way out tonight.

Not tonight, or any other night. She had given in to May and this man's demand- there was nothing to stop them from making this a regular arrangement. She felt a strong wave of despair wash over her, pulling her down into hopelessness.

_'I need that money, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it. If May fires me, and no other club takes me, what'll I do then? They've trapped me! May said he wouldn't get violent, what choice to I have but to hope that she was telling the truth…?'_

She looked up and realized that she'd arrived. It was a tall building, nestled comfortably between buildings just like it, all of them of the highest class, facing the vast expanse of Central Park. The people here were the powerhouses of New York wealth- attorneys, architects, CEOs, models, actors and actresses, celebrity designers, pro athletes and doctors. Christine felt horribly cheap and dirty in the face of such enormous power and influence.

_"You're a stripper, nothin' but a pole dancer…"_

She took a breath and watched as it flowed in the air, a white cloud quickly whipped away in the wind. Christine swallowed her pride and stepped into the warmth of the building lobby. A tall, very muscular black man sat behind a large, semi-circular desk and he looked her up and down curiously. "Can I help you, miss?"

_'Save me…'_

Christine fumbled for an explanation. "Oh, yes…I'm just visiting a friend. Mr. …" she looked down at the slip of paper. "Mr. Latour. I just need to go up and see Mr. Latour,"

The clerk nodded with a '_don't ask, don't tell'_ sort of understanding.

_He must be used to all_ _kinds of escorts coming through the lobby_, Christine thought in humiliated despair. _And I'm no different than any of them, I'm a whore now, too, I just don't have the fancy clothes that go along with the job._

"All right. He's on the top floor. I need you to sign in here," the man said, gesturing to an elegantly designed guest book. Christine nodded and ran her fingertips over the gilded pages. She took the pen offered to her- _Mont Blanc!-_ and signed her name before showing him her ID.

The clerk nodded and Christine stepped onto the elevator, wringing her hands out of fear.

* * *

The one thing that was purely intolerable with insomnia, Erik decided, was that one could never find anything worth watching on network television. Thank God for satellite!

He stared unseeingly at the screen, watching an infomercial, while he patiently waited for his dinner to finish baking in the oven. Erik was a self-declared odd bird, but he was content in his lonely existence. Or, as content as he could ever hope to be. His mask was on the coffee table, where he usually set it down after a long day of work.

Erik ran a hand over both sides of his face, first the normal side, then the…_abnormal _side. He lifted his hand higher and touched his hair. Idly, he wondered what he was doing with his life. He did contribute heavily to city charities, and he enjoyed his work, but he had a mounting feeling that some part of his life was unfulfilled.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone's jarring ring tone. He flipped it open. "Hello?"

May's drawling accent greeted him. "Hello there sugar, has she arrived yet?"

Erik frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I guess I called a little early, huh? What are you cooking?" May asked.

"Well, I…lasagna. You know my sleep schedule too well, May."

"I know your schedule well enough to know that you _never_ sleep," she retorted. "Anyway, she left here over an hour ago. You call to thank me after she leaves, you hear me?"

"May, what are you talking about?" he asked.

Erik turned his head towards his door, and set the television to mute. He heard it again, a soft knocking. "I…hold on a second, May. I think I have a Girl Scout out past curfew," he muttered in irritation as he slipped on his mask.

Erik opened the door and nearly dropped the telephone. Christine stared back at him from the other side of the doorway.


	4. Dinner Guest

_The girl_ was in his home.

Erik watched her as she waited in his living room. Her posture was rigid; her expression tense, as if she were fully prepared to bolt out the door. His skin felt clammy as he watched her, and he could barely understand May's explanation for the thundering of the blood through his ears.

He stood in the kitchen, watching Christine as she fidgeted on his sofa. Her worn out shoes and the ankles of her jeans were wet. She wore a faded sweatshirt, her pale hair was windwhipped. Erik swallowed at the sight of her, and lifted the telephone to his ear. When he spoke, it was a strained whisper. "May…I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

He heard a sound of exasperation on the other end of the line. "Damn it, Erik, open your fuckin' ears! I said, I've sent over that girl you like. She's yours for the night, so enjoy. It's freezing out, so get on her and warm her up. Break that ice of hers," she laughed.

Erik angrily hung up on May's giggling. _How could she have done this?_ Christine turned to look at him, her striking azure eyes locking with his from her place in the living room. An awkward silence hung above them, and neither had the courage to break it. Erik took a deep breath- he was the man, he had to take control of the situation, reassure the girl that she didn't have to do _anything_ with him…

Christine clenched her toes. Her feet felt frozen, and her body was wracking with small shivers- the remainders of the chill from the streets and her fear of Erik. He hadn't spoken when he'd opened the door, but his eyes had widened at the sight of her and his lips had parted. The man had taken a quick step backward, as if in a silent, though obviously surprised invitation. Christine hadn't said anything to him as she'd stepped past him to enter; there was no need for words.

They both knew why she was there; she just wanted to get it over with and get away from him. And now here she was, waiting for Diamond'scourage to come to her.

She couldn't help but glance around. The man in the mask was obviously rich, judging from the look of his apartment. Christine didn't know how to judge different designers of furniture or how to distinguish one artist from another, but she knew what she liked. The panoramic view was wonderful, a full wall of windows- for a minute Christine felt like she was on top of the world, or if not the world, she was on top of New York City. She imagined that it must be how the wealthy felt every day.

The décor of his apartment was modern, though it held a distinct eclectic feel to it- nothing matched, but it all came together to make a home, albeit a very lonely one.

Christine heard the man click off his phone and she turned to look at him. Adrenaline fueled her pounding heart. _What am I doing here? How did it come to this?_

Because the man was standing in the kitchen, the lighting was perfect to highlight the contours of that striking, ghoulish mask. It covered most of his face, though it left enough of his features available for her assessment. He had light skin, dark hair. Christine could see that his eyes were an interesting hazel color, very bright. He was tall; he had a strong build beneath his sleek Armani suit. The man might have been two decades older than her, but he wore his years better than men half his age.

Christine willed her heart to slow down; she felt the salty sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. _It will be all right, don't let him see…Diamond, I need you!_

As they were both longing and straining to reach for courage, to grasp the hammer that would shatter this tormenting silence-

_Ding-ding-ding_

Erik jerked at the sound, and it seemed as if the small noise had lifted his tension completely. He turned to look toward the oven timer, and then looked back toward his guest. Christine's brow furrowed as the visible side of Erik's mouth tilted up into a small, painful smile. "I was just making some dinner, would you care to join me, Christine?"

_'I've gained an appetite for destruction this past year. I'm ready for the serve the first course, Mr. Latour…'_

* * *

Erik had moved into the kitchen, she could hear the sounds of scraping plates and silverware. Christine took a deep breath of relief, but she knew it wouldn't last. The man could be deranged for all she knew- he might have offered her dinner but there was nothing to stop him from brutally raping her when the plates were cleared.

Not knowing what else to do, Christine stood up and walked to the kitchen doorway to see what he was doing. He was in there, serving two plates of lasagna. Her stomach chose that moment to roar to life, both reminding her and announcing to this bizarre stranger that she hadn't eaten since early the day before- she already felt weak from lack of food, her hands were shaking at her sides both from stress and hunger.

Erik had been comparing two bottles of wine, one red and one white, but he looked up in time to see her rub an embarrassed hand over her protesting belly. "You are hungry, Christine. I can hear it. You can go back to the living room, and I'll set out an appetizer if you'd like," he suggested.

Christine nodded and turned back, catching a glimpse of an alcove to her left, where there was an elegant dining room. Despite herself, Christine was surprised that it was so small- the man must not often entertain, but Christine didn't delude herself. She wasn't this man's dinner guest, she was his whore.

She sat down and couldn't stop her mind from wandering. '_How is this going to go? Why is he going through the trouble of serving me dinner- he knows why I'm here, so why bother with this seduction charade?_

She crossed her legs and clenched her toes. _He's bigger than I am. Older. Stronger. He might hurt me. No one but May and the doorman knows that I'm here. God. He could kill me and no one would even notice that I was gone. I would be just one more dead Jane Doe whore…_

Erik moved from the kitchen and came into the living room with a small plate in hand. "Here you are," he said gently, setting the plate down on the coffee table before her. "Dinner will be ready in just a few more minutes, Christine."

It was strange that he was working so hard to please her. She gave the man a small smile to appease him; after the horror stories she'd read in the newspaper and heard in the dressing room at Mama V's, she knew that sometimes the…_clients_ could get violent if they felt the girl they pay for was acting cold or ungrateful.

If she could just get through the night without being hurt…

She found her voice. "Thank you, Erik,"

He looked up at her with wide, bright eyes and returned her smile. The man was as close to her as he had ever been, and close enough to Christine that she could see the tense set of his lips and the slightest traces of scars at the edge of his mask. '_The mask is hiding more than just his identity from me,'_ she thought.

"My pleasure, Christine,"

Erik then turned back to the kitchen to finish preparing their dinner, leaving her to pick at the plate of vegetables that he'd left for her and to wonder why he seemed so grateful just to have someone else in his home.

* * *

The wait was not long; Christine had only just willed herself to relax when Erik approached again. "Dinner's ready, Christine," he informed her softly. He held out his hand to her, the way a gentleman would. She looked up and swallowed, praying that the sudden wave of fear didn't show on her face. Christine stood up and put her hand into his, allowing Erik to lead her into the dining alcove beside the kitchen.

She hesitated at the sight of the table. Erik had set two plates there, and poured them each a glass of the red. There was a classical CD playing softly, Christine recognized the 1st movement of Mozart's 40th symphony. The lighting overhead was favorable, but Erik had taken one step further and placed a candle in the center of the table. He moved to a chair and pulled it out for her. Christine's heart had started to jump up into her throat when he settled into the chair beside her own.

Erik smiled and inclined his head toward her plate. Christine's mouth was already watering at the sight and scent of the large piece of lasagna on her plate. It was homemade, she could tell, and she found it strange that a man of such wealth would bother to cook for himself. Her fear and uncertainty were forgotten momentarily in favor of her appetite. It was delicious, as she knew it would be.

Half way through dinner, which had been silent, Erik spoke up. "Are you enjoying your meal?"

Christine nodded. What would be the point in lying? "Yes, very much actually. You made this yourself, didn't you?"

Erik gave her a half-smile and if she was not mistaken, he sat up straighter and might have even puffed out his chest in a small show of pride. "I did. You could tell just by the taste?"

"Lasagna bought from the store doesn't come with its own garlic and basil on top like this has. It adds more flavor, plus this cheese is fresh, it's never been frozen." Christine rattled out easily.

Erik appeared both impressed and pleased. "Christine, I'm surprised. Were you ever in training to be a chef?"

She shook her head. "No…not a chef. Do you mind if I ask what it is you do, Mr. Latour?"

He held up his hand, "Please, would you call me Erik?"

She nodded, "All right, Erik then."

His eyes blazed. "Thank you. It pleases me when you use my given name."

Her heart thundered. _God, he wants me to please him now…_

Erik answered her original question, "I do a few different things, since you brought it up. I consult on the reconstruction architecture around the city, I assist in scientific research for NYU…but most of all, I do music. I compose, I play, record, and there are times when I work with vocalists and musicians," he finished mildly.

Christine felt baffled, "You…you must have a fantastic resume," she said with a laugh.

Erik returned her small laugh with a chuckle of his own. "Well, one likes to keep busy, I suppose."

"Have you worked abroad?"

"I…yes, for a number of years, actually," Erik replied, a quick flash of regret passing over the visible aspect of his face. Christine wondered if he'd received the scars he kept hidden while abroad, hence his regret.

"I've always wanted to travel,"

"What's stopping you? Why not 'seize the day', as they say?"

Christine glanced up. "It's not that simple," she snapped at him. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She had been awake for so long, and she knew what was coming. The anxiety was destroying her from the inside out. "Erik, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I just…" she felt her throat tighten and the salt stung in her eyes. "Are you ready?"

Erik's expression was odd, a mixture of confusion and some kind of compassion for her obvious distress. He didn't like to see her upset. "I…yes, I am."

She took a deep breath. "All right. I'll just go get ready. Do you mind of I use your bathroom?"

Erik nodded. "Go right ahead. It's down the hall, to the left."

Christine nodded and stood from the table, heading off down the hall. Once she found the bathroom, she locked the door and leaned over the sink. She knew she wasn't going to be sick, but her stomach and throat were constricted into knots. Her head was held in a vice of tension and she squeezed her eyes shut.

_Oh God, what have I become…? It was never supposed to be this way! Life wasn't meant to turn this corner- how could I have let this happen? I can't leave. He'll tell May, May will fire me and make sure I never find work in another club again, and if I can't find work, where will that leave _her?

She took several breaths and turned the faucet. The water hit her face and chilled her, refreshing and reviving her quickly. Christine closed her eyes and literally swallowed her mounting self-disgust.

Squaring her shoulders, Christine stared into her reflection and glared at the young woman who stared back at her. '_You know what will happen if you don't go through with this. Suck it up, whatever he has in store for the rest of the night. If he wants _that_, then you'll have to suck it up too. Work him, just do whatever he wants…he holds your future in his hands, think of that when he's fucking you like the whore you've turned out to be. Use that thought to get through the night.'_

Christine stepped out of the bathroom and headed into the living room, only to find Erik waiting for her. He stood up from the sofa and smiled briefly at her, "You look…different, somehow," he stated as he gave her a curious once over.

She shrugged. "What do you mean?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure, really. Harder, maybe. Nevermind, it must be a trick of the light. Or maybe you are just tired, my God, it's nearing four in the morning! I'm sorry, I should never have kept you this late."

Christine didn't know what to make from his words. Hadn't she been sent there because he wanted her either in his bed or on her knees?

Erik took a large container off the kitchen counter and motioned towards his front door. "I've already called you a taxi, I'll walk you out to the lobby,"

Christine was so baffled that she went ahead and followed him to the elevators.

* * *

There was a taxi already waiting at the front of the building, and Erik knew that it would continue to wait while he said his goodbyes to the girl, Christine. He glanced at her- since the moment they'd met she had seemed both tense and exhausted. Her stomach had announced her self-neglect, her eyes had held wariness of him for the entire night. Things had been awkward between them for the most part, but there had been those few precious moments over dinner when they had spoken to each other with ease.

It was enough to give Erik some slight hope that Christine might, if given enough time, come to trust him.

He handed her the container that held the remainder of the lasagna he'd made. "Here," he said as he handed it to her. "I think you could use a home cooked meal,"

Christine blushed with what he thought might be embarrassment, but was in fact deep shame. The man was giving her his leftovers like she was outside begging on the streets! She felt humiliated and cheap- she had never felt lower than she did in that moment. Christine knew that her shirt was faded and old, and she was well aware of how worn out her shoes had become. She knew her hair was ragged and dry, and she knew that May was right about everything she'd said to her…but Christine had always at the very least, been able to put food on her table.

Still…she couldn't voice her outrage, there was no outlet for her anger. She couldn't allow Erik to know how painful his kindness was to her. Christine took the container from him and smiled. "Thank you. It really was delicious,"

Erik could have sworn he'd seen something in her eyes just then. Some little twitch, or tick, but he dismissed it as being a trick of the light. "I'm glad you thought so. I…if you would like to come by tomorrow night as well, I would be happy to have you," he said, leaving the future of their relationship to each other fully within her control. He wanted her to come back, desperately, but Erik wouldn't beg for her time.

Christine sighed then, and because they were no longer secluded in his home, and the doorman was seated behind the desk, she felt safe enough to voice the thought that had been heavily weighing on her mind. "Why would you want me in your home, Erik? Why me?"

The man didn't launch into any explanations, and he didn't get angry. He only told her a simple truth. "It just gets very lonely eating by myself every night, Christine."


	5. Honesty Unbelieved

Christine shifted uncomfortably in the backseat of the taxi as it weaved the long twisting trail through the city to reach her tiny apartment. Under and in between the skyscrapers of fame, and over the great bridges seen in countless films, until the common yellow car pulled in front of a run down Chinese bakery, where Christine rented the apartment above it.

Erik's lasagna container was resting on her lap, the hot food inside warming her legs. It had been embarrassing that he'd given it to her, but anything that could help to fight the biting cold was a blessing. Her mind had been preoccupied for the entire ride, and so the driver had given up trying to make small talk about three minutes into their trip.

Christine blinked and realized that the car had stopped, and then she glanced down into her hand. Erik had given her his dinner and a handful of bills for the cab fare, and he had gone so far as to speak to the driver, urging him to get Christine home and out of the cold as quickly as possible.

It would have been flattering if their situation had been different; if they had shared a night of comfort rather than the awkward talk over the meal…she was surprised that she could even consider Erik as anything other than what he truly was: a man who believed himself so superior and all-powerful that he could demand a woman whenever the mood struck him.

Perhaps for a moment she had indulged in a pang of pity- he wore a mask to keep his facial scarring hidden from prying eyes. Erik might be timid around women of a more appropriate age and social set, but he obviously felt no hesitation at all in using the young girls that worked in his club.

_'Of course. What good is a girl if she isn't selling herself in one way or another?'_

She hadn't looked at the cab fare he'd given to her, but as Christine opened her hand and peeled through the bills, she realized that Erik had been uncommonly generous.

Her eyes widened as she counted out $500.

"Hey, lady, you deaf or blind? We're here, let's move it," the driver urged. Christine glanced up and saw that his shift was nearly over, no doubt he was anxious to get home and get some sleep, just as she was.

"Oh, sorry, here you go," she said quickly, peeling away a couple $20 bills and handing them over. She let him keep the change.

The driver took her money and a moment later he was nothing but red trail lights speeding away down the street. It was deadly quiet and dark outside, the only light came from a streetlamp several doors down the block. The neon lights that alighted all of the shops- including the bakery that she lived over- wouldn't come on for another few hours. Christine made quick work of getting into her apartment and securing the three locks behind her.

Erik's money was still clutched in her hand, a ridiculous amount given to her for no reason at all. The man was rich, and might have been out of touch with the way that the "other half" lived, but he couldn't have honestly thought that it would cost $500 for cab fare.

It had been her payment then. He'd not paid her for sexual favors, and come to think of it, May had said he only wanted her company for the night. Sex hadn't been mentioned, and as withdrawn and tense as she had been, Christine had still technically shared her company with Erik. She felt no qualm at all in keeping the money. He had done most of the talking, and at first he had seemed just as uncomfortable as she, but once dinner had been served, Erik had opened up and spoken to her.

It was strange- it had felt more like Erik had truly only wanted her to have dinner with him.

The idea was ridiculous, of course. What man would pay $500 for a dinner guest? If he had wanted sex, he could have taken it, whether she was willing or not. Christine tugged off her faded sweatshirt and tossed it over the kitchen chair. One look at the clock told her that it was nearing 4:45 in the morning and she groaned heavily.

Christine knew she needed to sleep, but she had an established routine that she wanted to keep. _'I can't control anything else that's happened to me, but I'll be damned if they take this from me too…'_

She took out her pink money purse that she used whenever she danced, and began to count everything. She counted out every last crumpled bill, smoothing it out and setting it into a pile, separating the ones, fives, tens, twenties and the few fifties and one hundreds that she'd earned from the bachelor party.

_'All right, that's…$783…$1283 after the money that Erik gave to me tonight…'_

It was the most that she'd ever earned in a night, but part of it hadn't been earned at all, Erik had given it to her freely. Christine had seen the way he'd assessed her with his bright eyes, from her worn out shoes to her faded clothes. _'More a grubby girl off the street than a_ _desirable_ _woman,'_ Christine thought to herself as she organized the money and put it all together into her large cookie jar. _'Maybe I aroused more pity in him than anything else, hopefully he won't think to ask for me again. It'll be Summer or Crystal that he'll want,' _

She crossed the tiny kitchen and put the cookie jar behind the dismal refrigerator, and then took the three steps necessary to make it over to her bed. The apartment was really just one room, sectioned off into the kitchen and living room by linen curtains that Christine had managed to hang from the ceiling.

There was a bathroom and a closet on the other end of her apartment, both tiny and run down but Christine had counted her blessings when she found that, even if the hot water supply for her shower only lasted about ten minutes, the water was perfectly clean and the plumbing had never given her any problems.

She turned over to lay on her back and stare up at the crack in the wall just above the cracked headboard of her bed. It was getting worse with each passing week. The extra $500 would come in handy towards home repairs…

In a rush, there was a flood of voices filling her head.

_"He wants to fuck me, he pays,"_

_"You're a stripper, nothin' but a pole dancer,"_

_"It just gets lonely eating by myself every night, Christine,"_

She shook her head, hoping to quiet the voices. Christine felt almost giddy with exhaustion. Her toes and heels were blistered first from her constant use of her worn out boots and then they suffered even more abuse by her pinching, plastic pole shoes. She was also cold and, despite just having eaten with Erik, she was hungry.

The hunger she felt had nothing to do with food- she felt hungry for a life to be lived far away from the uncaring, unseeing steel city. All around her there was ugliness. The girls at the club regularly took home customers to earn just that much more money so they could afford designer clothes, the rent or other stupid, frivolous things like Tiffany jewelry- as if wearing a priceless gem might make them somehow more worthy themselves. She shivered. The girls would come into work and brag about how quickly their chosen client of the night got off, one sick way or another.

Christine felt bile rise to her throat suddenly, and loathing began to tighten its hold on her stomach and heart, clenching and refusing to let her go. She was sick of being a pole dancer; she couldn't even look herself in the mirror anymore without hating what she saw; even with the heavy makeup washed away, she could still see despair in her eyes. _Pathetic._

She hated the men in the clubs, the girls who danced there; she hated neon lights and alcohol and the smell of cigarettes and the loud, deafening beat that passed for music at Mama V's.

She hated how out of control her life had become in such a short time- she had not even seen Meg or Raoul in three months, and she had made damn sure that they wouldn't be able to find her. It would break her, to be dancing one night only to look down and see them staring back at her from the audience as she was forced to writhe on stage, as if it were natural for her to be so aroused by strange men licking and leering at her, their hungry hands always reaching to touch…

"Stop it!" She shouted into the darkness. For a moment she felt frenzied and trapped.

Christine took a deep breath and sat up to slip off her boots. She left them fall to the floor before she flopped back onto her lumpy mattress, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. Sleep descended quickly, but not before she remembered something about Erik expressing a wish to see her again.

* * *

May watched in fascinated disgust as Diamond performed on stage. From her office above the club floor, she could see everything from behind a wall of two-way mirror windows. There was ample security already in place to protect the girls who danced and of course to ensure that no sparky teenage boys managed to slip into New York's latest and greatest strip club.

There were bouncers at every entrance and cameras in every corner, but May still liked the subtle, voyeuristic thrill of being able to see without being seen. Diamond was on the stage, working the pole. May could understand Erik's attraction. The girl was beautiful in the face, even when she wasn't wearing the heavy makeup required for the job.

Fantastic blue eyes were framed with long, incongruously dark lashes; she had a full, sensual mouth and a dazzling smile. That thought struck May- had Erik ever seen a genuine smile from the girl, or just the practiced, sexy smile she used for the stage?

Erik hadn't gone into details about what he and Diamond had done the night before. Indeed, May could hardly remember what he'd said after calling her at five in the morning, snarling something about how she had made him look like some kind of deranged whoremonger in front of Christine.

"What does it matter?" She had argued tiredly, "You wanted to meet her, and now you have. You might want to call me when you're feeling a little more grateful."

Erik had probably hissed out some brutal insult, but May had hung up on him. The man hadn't called back since then, and she figured that maybe he'd taken her advice to heart. He would never have found a way to approach the girl on his own; May might not know all the ins and outs of his life, but she knew him well enough to know that dealing with women wasn't his area of expertise.

Because of the mask, the scars underneath it, Erik was often withdrawn, reclusive and timid. She knew that he might take a woman every once in a great while, but his affairs had always been short-lived and more physical than anything else. _'Well, he is a man!_' May thought to herself. _'And a man is always drawn to what he thinks he can't have,'_

If Erik desired Diamond, May couldn't be surprised, despite that she thought of the girl as just another trick who wanted into his pockets. He had told her, some weeks ago, that he didn't think the girl belonged dancing in the club. Erik thought that he saw something different in her, and he had mentioned an urge to protect. May had thought it strange at the time, but Erik's words were beginning to make sense.

'_So Erik wants to play the hero and save princess Diamond- wha a male cliché!_' she thought as she watched Diamond smile at the crowd and writhe against the pole. May shook her head as she walked back to her desk and took out a pen to jot out a short note to the club's prized dancer. She would have Diamond pay another visit to Erik, and another and another, for as many nights as it took to keep Erik's attention away from the club.

'_Speaking of which…'_ May took out another sheet of paper and penned a quick note, addressing it to Crystal. _'The messenger and the special delivery.'_

* * *

Christine stood in the hallway, just outside of Erik's apartment. She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet. Soaked again, but she was strangely thankful for being so cold- her toes had gone numb and she couldn't feel her blisters. The doorman had greeted her again kindly, but his friendliness hadn't put her at ease.

She didn't know what to expect this time around- Erik hadn't seemed to want anything more than just dinner conversation the night before, but that had no bearing on the here and now.

He could hurt her, or he might not do a thing. There were several possibilities to consider, but Christine was exhausted and shivering. She felt so drained of dignity and hope that she almost didn't care if by going to Erik, she was in a sense embracing the lifestyle that was destroying her.

'_Take me, kill me…what does it matter in the end…?_'

Feeling hopeless and uncaring of her safety, she raised a trembling hand to knock on his door. A moment later, the man was standing before her. She blinked, trying to regain herself. Erik stood tall and smooth in another dark suit; his eyes were bright behind the mask as he looked upon her. "Christine, please, come in," he said, his voice full of hope. He stepped aside and gestured her welcome into his home.

There was a fire going and Christine didn't bother to ask if it was all right, she headed straight for it to warm herself. Erik closed the door behind her and turned to watch as her trembling figure tried desperately to absorb some heat into her thin, damp clothing.

Erik frowned slightly as he watched her shiver, and again he wondered why she didn't wear warmer clothes. As the sole investor to Mama V's, Erik and his accountants had gone over the pay estimates for all the employees; the dancers were the highest paid by far- he knew she could afford a decent coat at the very least, so why was it that she had come to him not once, but twice, trembling from the bitter cold and wearing the same faded overshirt?

He shook his head, dismissing the question. It wasn't his business what she did with her money, and he had no intention to interfere in her life any more than he already had. He wondered if she blamed him for May's manipulation.

Erik stirred up a bit of courage to speak to her; the night before had been too awkward for his taste, he wanted to put her at ease and gain some of her trust. Just enough so that she wouldn't fear him, and perhaps they could engage in a real conversation rather than the small talk of the night before.

"Cold outside?" he asked.

Christine turned to look at him and nodded, "Freezing out, as usual," she said through chattering teeth. Erik noticed the slight blue tint to her lips and made her quick offer.

He motioned to the kitchen, "I could make you something. Spiced cider, coffee- if you want something sweeter, I can make tea or cocoa, you need something hot."

The corners of her lips lifted slightly, but Christine shook her head. "You don't have to do that for me, I'll warm up in just a few minutes,"

"It wouldn't put me out if that's what concerns you. Can you smell the cinnamon in the air? I was making cider anyway, you should have some. It's a new recipe and I could use the second opinion." he urged her.

Christine had smelt the sugary spice in the air upon entering, but she hadn't called attention to it. She took a deep breath and shrugged, "Well, if you're going to force me,"

Erik paused at her words; he knew that she had only been referring to the cider tasting, but it reminded him of the very reason that the girl was in his home- she believed that Erik had demanded her presence purely for sex. Damn May, the woman was more conniving than a politician!

He knew that the issue had to be addressed between them in full honesty, if any progress was ever to be made. He had to make it clear to her that he wished only for her companionship, how else could he gain her acceptance than by telling her the truth?

"Have a seat, Christine, and I'll bring you a cup,"

She nodded and sunk down into one of his chairs, the one nearest to the fireplace. Her body and mind were exhausted to the point where she could feel no fear of Erik or what he might do to her. The news she had received earlier, before her shift at the club, had beaten her down. With hope removed, there was no longer any bright side to look forward to; Christine had given up, in a way. If Erik were to approach her sexually, she didn't have it in her to refuse or fight.

_'Take me, I don't care anymore. It's over, I'm done…'_

"Here you are, Christine,"

She looked up to see Erik moving toward her with a steaming mug of cider in one hand, a plate of pastries in the other. She took the mug from him and Erik sat down across from her with a mug of his own. They sat in comfortable silence for several long moments; content, warm and peaceful.

The cider was strong and sweet, so hot that she could feel it move down her throat and pool in her stomach, warming her from the inside out. It was wonderful, and the strong flavor had revived her. Christine blinked and drank more, becoming warmer and more alive with each burning sip. The gray fog of depression that had been veiling her mind lifted, and she turned to look at the man across from her.

Christine didn't hide her gaze as she watched the golden light of the fire dance on his mask, playing into the shadows and crevices of the strange face covering. If his scars were so horrible that he chose to cover them with a leather mask, then Christine could identify with him in a small way. They both had a part of their lives that brought them intense shame- she, her present situation and he, his facial scarring.

Erik likewise regarded Christine with level eyes. Her body had stopped shivering and she appeared relaxed, comfortable in his home. Her color had returned. Her face was again bare of the heavy makeup the girls wore when they danced; she looked like a different person. This was Christine before him, not Diamond. As much as he would have liked to continue this peaceful night of cider sipping, Erik knew he had to break it to address the reason that she was there in the first place.

"Christine, I need to speak to you about May and the reason she told you to come see me," he began.

To his surprise, the girl let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Oh, right down to business? Of course, whenever you're ready _sir,"_ she said, a strange mix of bitterness and hysteria coloring her voice. Christine started to rise from her chair, but Erik stood first and braced his hands over her narrow shoulders. His grip was firm, but hurting her was the last thing on his mind.

"Christine, no, will you please listen to me?"

She sat down and fixed her eyes to his as Erik kneeled before her.

"This is all May's doing…please, believe me when I tell you that I had not asked her to send you to me. I wouldn't…she took things out of hand, do you understand?" Erik continued with difficulty. "I mentioned an attraction, and I suppose that, given the environment, she assumed you were available for…Christ! I'm sorry, I'm not explaining myself very well," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. He made a slight adjustment to his mask and sighed.

Christine frowned, unsure of him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I didn't tell May to send you to me for sex!" he said quickly. "I saw you on your first day. It's all right if you don't remember me, we never spoke. We just looked at each other for a moment, over a month ago. I mentioned to May that I found you attractive, and in her way of thinking, she's trying to do me a favor by sending you over. I don't want anything from you, nothing but your company."

Christine stared at him, trying to absorb all he'd told her. There was a time when she might have listened to the soft voices in the very back of her mind that urged her to have faith in the golden eyes of Erik, to trust his words of pure intent. But that was a long time ago, before all trust and innocence had been beaten out of her. "You really expect me to believe that?" She asked.

Erik stilled at the dry, skeptical question. "Have I given you a reason to doubt what I say?"

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean anything. May explained enough to me that I should expect you to want a little more than just dinner and cookies," she said, motioning to the plate on the coffee table between them. "She told me you were a lonely man, and so important to the club that I have no real choice but to bend to your whim."

Erik sighed and his brow furrowed at her obstinacy. "Well, then. My whim is that you come see me for the next few days. Talk to me, let me cook for you. I don't often have visitors, but I like you, Christine. As I told you the other night, it does become lonely after so much time alone. So, will you please share a meal with me?"

Christine shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I have a choice."

Erik sighed and then stood up, again offering his hand to her the way a gentleman would. This time, he wasn't nearly as thrilled when the girl placed her hand into his and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.

His heart sank as he saw that she truly was there only for the money, and not by any true want of her own. Erik had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would have come back because he offered her a gentle reprieve from the club environment, but he could see now that that was not the case.

She came back for the money and for fear of losing her position at his club. Erik sighed lightly as he began to serve the meal- Italian again, pene rustica- and his mind raced for ideas on how he might be able to salvage the evening.

Christine looked at him from across the table and he caught a genuine smile cross her lips- it was gone in a moment, and her face returned to it's blank, objective expression, but Erik had seen it, and because he had witnessed such a tiny, telltale sign, a spark of hope returned to him.

He raised his glass, and Christine raised hers. They clicked glasses and began to eat. Erik reasoned to himself as he watched her that, even if she was little more than his unwilling guest for the night, her company was still better than none at all.


	6. Masked Diamond

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait between updates, but every once in awhile the site will act a little crazy and won't let me upload any documents. If I can help it, things will be back on schedule from now on.**

* * *

Putting forth admirable effort, Erik steered the conversation towards neutral subjects; his hopes were that Christine would come to open up to him tonight more than she had the night before. He poured the wine and served the meal, selecting a light piece of music to set the mood. 

Settling in across from her at his small dining table, Erik asked her, "So, Christine, where are you from?"

She looked up. "You know I'm not from New York?"

Erik tilted his head to the side. "You don't have the accent. I have an ear for this sort of thing. I would say much further west from here, but you haven't a twang…not Arkansas or Texas…maybe Nevada? Or Nebraska?"

His heart thrummed as she smiled and shook her head. "No. Colorado. Or, I lived there for a long time, I was raised there, but that was years ago. It feels like I've lived in a dozen other places since then," she said.

Erik raised his visible brow. "Oh, a nomad. I've been to a number of places myself, but this has been the only place that I've been able to settle. I like it here, the city…it's _me_,"

Christine nodded but didn't respond the way he hoped she would. He feared another night of awkward silence, so he quickly continued, "I'm sorry if that sounded silly, but it's the truth. So, originally from Colorado, where else have you lived, if I may ask?"

Christine felt her pulse flutter; so unused to genuine kindness from men that it was almost alarming to encounter it now. If Erik had suddenly become violent, she would have been afraid for her safety, but not nearly as unnerved by his consoling, gentle demeanor. There was no reason that she should expect kindness from him. She glanced away briefly and cleared her throat. "I…well, there was Dallas, Atlanta and Tallahassee. I lived in Miami before I moved here a while ago."

Erik nodded and sipped his wine. "Oh? And what did you do there?"

He regretted the question the moment he'd spoken. Christine's entire expression changed; only a moment ago she had seemed interested, absorbed in their light discussion, but the moment he asked about Miami, her eyes darkened and her cheeks began to flame. Her mouth was instantly tense and she looked away from him. Her voice even sounded different when she answered.

"That's where I started dancing." She said flatly.

Inwardly, Christine was trying to stamp down the memories of her time there, and the horrors that had lead her to the stripper stage. It was difficult. The whole of her life had just become so out of control and so dominated by the roaring demands of an audience of men that for a moment she thought she might be ill. It came over her in a rush; the leers from the audience, the groping, grabbing hands on her body, the sickening propositions offered in the back room…

Erik quickly departed towards another subject, and luckily, it was one he knew quite well. "Do you like music, Christine?"

"What? Oh, yes, well doesn't everyone?"

Erik smiled at that. "Only those without souls have no appreciation for music- namely, the man who does my taxes. Claims he prefers to listen to talk radio, can you believe that?"

Christine shook off the darker thoughts that had momentarily descended down on her. Erik's face, the visible side, at least, simply appeared thankful to have someone to talk to. Her sharp eyes roamed the planes and contours of his expression. His bright eyes were framed with slight crow's feet that she felt added character; his dark hair was brushed with a few threads of silver at the temples. She liked that. The man's tense mouth seemed a little more relaxed tonight, smiling lightly, waiting for her response.

Christine felt more of the knots in her stomach unwind, slowly but surely. "I love music, all kinds really, I don't have a favorite song or group or anything like that. I've always felt that you can't say one piece of music is better than another. How could you compare Mozart to Moby? They're just too different."

Erik nodded, feeling his affection for her grow. "I couldn't agree more. I think now more than ever it's important for one to have eclectic tastes, especially when it comes to music,"

Christine raised a brow at him. "You would say that, music is what pays your bills!"

He suddenly realized that she was teasing him a little; that she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down was akin to a breakthrough. "Oh, now I wouldn't put it that way- I love what I do. Music is paramount to me, but more than just a meal ticket, it makes up a large part of my social life as well. I often attend operas and symphonies that are not my productions, I'm just so…_moved _by it all."

Erik thought he might have revealed a bit too much in that last, if Christine's expression was anything to go by. "I'm sorry, that sounded strange. I just meant to say that music is mostly everything to me. It's my life, not just my job."

The girl nodded, "No, I'm sorry, I know that's what you meant. I feel like that sometimes too. Or, I used to. I don't go to the opera, but I've been to a production once. It's been ten years but I can still remember it."

"Which production?"

"_Carmen_. It was wonderful,"

He nodded, "I'm sure it was. I believe everyone remembers their first. My first production was something called _Il Muto_. It was silly, overacted, more a comedy routine than any real music, but the public enjoyed it. And that's the only part of the business that I don't like, catering to the public. I prefer to do things my way,"

Christine nodded and sipped her wine, listening to the strings of the harp on CD, coupled with a flute and piano. "As all we artists do," she said.

Erik issued a small, accomplished sigh, feeling very good and somewhat triumphant.

* * *

"I've had it with these fuckin' pigs! If I have one more old man grab on my tits, I'll take his cane and shove it right up his ass!" Cinnamon screeched as she stomped into the backstage dressing room for her break. Diamond glanced up in the mirror to watch her yank open the area refrigerator and take out a cold bottle of water. Cinnamon gulped down half the contents and groaned at the instant pain of brainfreeze. 

Tawny turned to look at her, "Is it that bad out tonight?" she asked as she adjucted the straps to her thong.

Cinnamon glared, "Yes, and I'll tell you right now, I'll break off the next hand that comes anywhere near me. Who the hell do they think they are, just grabbing at you like a piece of fuckin' meat?!" She demanded as she started washing her face, roughly scrubbing the skin.

Diamond didn't pay much attention to all that was going on. Cinnamon was ranting, as usual, while Tawny, a mousy girl with a voluptuous build asked questions. There were several other girls around, all of them getting ready for the stage, just as she was. Diamond lined her lips heavily, and brushed on yet another coat of mascara. Her determination was to obscure Christine's features completely; that girl didn't belong in the club.

She didn't listen to Cinnamon's rant about the audience, it was nothing that she hadn't dealt with before. She loathed the nights on stage with an unrivaled passion, but lately she found herself willing for the nights to be over not so that she could collapse into oblivion at home, but so that she could go see Erik.

Things had been good between them so far and though she was hard pressed to admit it, Erik had managed to charm her a little. He'd coaxed her into conversation and shared parts of his life with her; from stories of his travels to the more mundane events of his day at work, where he was always chasing after one task or another. The man was interesting and gentle, intelligent; these were traits that she had forgotten could be found in men.

But as wonderful as Erik was, he was powerless to make her forget what she was to him: hired company for the evening. They might share a night of light conversation and have a meal with a glass of wine or two, but Erik always paid her handsomely at the end. It wasn't really discussed; he would only make a quick phone call before walking her down to the lobby and giving her the 'cab fare'.

Yes, Erik was not demanding sex from her in any way. He'd yet to even hug her or lightly touch anything other than her hand, her shoulder, and on one occasion, the small of her back. But he was a man, and no matter how he disguised himself, she knew that sooner or later, he would come to expect something in return for all of his kindness and generosity.

His money had been a great help. The crack in her wall was finally repaired and Christine had splurged on a new pair of everyday walking shoes, but that was as far as she was willing to go towards herself. Most of Erik's money had gone into the cookie jar with all the rest from her dancing.

Still, even though she was essentially being paid to spend time with him, a part of her longed to simply enjoy their time together for what it was. They often laughed together, or rather, she would laugh while Erik would smile and flash eyes at her. Only lately had they come into more serious discussion but more often than not they spoke of music.

"Everything is going on schedule, our next production should open within the next few weeks," he'd mentioned just the day before. He'd shown her pictures, sketches of the set designs used for the opening acts, and a few pages of the script. It had been slightly painful to her, to be reminded of what she could never achieve, but Erik knew nothing of that. He hadn't known her smile was yet another mask for the storm building within her.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," she'd said, forcing her true emotions into a lead ball in the pit of her stomach. Still, when she'd gained control of herself, shad hadn't known why there had been a strange flutter in her chest when Erik had shined his bright eyes on her.

"My pleasure, Christine…"

Diamond snapped her compact shut and shook away thoughts of Erik. One glance at the clock said that she wouldn't see him until at least another hour anyway. She'd already been on stage that night, but as usual she had the closing shift and wouldn't be leaving until very late.

Cinnamon sighed heavily, trying to calm herself down as she took her seat at the dressing counter. The older woman stared at her reflection for several long moments, and then she turned to Diamond. "I was going to be a doctor. What the hell happened to me?"

Diamond didn't know what to say, it was such a loaded question and so out of character for a woman like Cinnamon to ask. She had always been harsh and direct, this sudden vulnerability was alarming.

The other woman shook her head and looked down to her counter. A paper was there and as she looked at what it said, her hard edge returned tenfold. "Oh, that's just fuckin' perfect, the manager wants a word. I swear to God, if she starts bitchin' to me about what I said to those old guys I'll quit tonight!"

Cinnamon stormed out of the dressing area and slammed the door behind her, leaving several stunned dancers in her wake.

* * *

She would be there soon. 

Erik glanced up to the clock mounted on the wall above his fireplace and tapped his foot in agitation. Christine wasn't due for a while, but he was still anxious to see her. Taking a look around his apartment, Erik thought that some definite changes were needed in his life, changes stemming from his involvement with the girl.

Their routine had been established within time they had together. Erik would prepare a meal and answer the door to her. She would be shivering, shaking from the biting cold outside and he'd step aside to let her in. For her, he always had a fire going and he'd let her warm up. Erik hated that she apparently had nothing warmer to wear than that faded, well-loved sweatshirt.

Well, that would be addressed tonight.

Rather than wine to go with their dinner, Erik chose a cognac. He didn't think it would be too strong for her, but she was smaller and lighter than him, there was no telling how hard the alcohol might hit her. Wine never seemed to impair her in any way, but if she became tipsy at all, Erik would insist that she stay overnight. Force her, if he had to, but there was no way that he would let her leave him with her senses dulled.

Erik settled into the sofa and let his gaze roam over the view from what he'd come to call his "window wall", which afforded his eyes the scope of Central Park. He absently wondered if Christine might ever agree to see him at a different time of the day, to walk the park with him.

This was how he'd often spent evenings alone; resting beside a warm fire and looking out over his city. Staring out the window wall often gave him inspiration and he was sometimes taken with the thought that he owned all before him, that the city truly was his and he was a king awaiting the arrival of his favorite courtesan.

But it was wrong to think of Christine in that way. He paid her, yes, but his flow of income was his way of encouraging her to get away from the club. At first, he'd paid her for the time spent with him in his home, bestowing upon her gratitude richly deserved. Now, however, Erik paid her, essentially, with the hopes that she would come to depend upon him fully.

Chauvinistic, misogynistic, caveman- in whatever terms described, Erik didn't care how others might disdain his secret want. He wanted Christine to stop stripping, he wanted her safe, he wanted her warm, and he wanted her to himself. He wanted her with him, available to him whenever he wanted a kind word or some conversation. Erik didn't see anything wrong with his want for Christine to become a fixture in his life, but for all of his other various accomplishments, he lacked the courage to come to her directly.

Above all else, he feared her rejection; Erik couldn't bear the thought that Christine might see him as one of the men that frequented **Mama V's**. He didn't want to proposition her; he wanted to offer her the place of being the one woman in his life.

That was different, wasn't it?

Erik sighed and looked down into his glass. He didn't know whether to think of it as half-empty or half-full. The doorbell rang and he set the glass down as he rose up to answer it. It was not Christine on the other side of the door.

It was Diamond.

Startled into speechlessness, Erik's jaw worked but no sound could be heard. The girl didn't seem to notice, she continued on as if nothing were different. She could not see her own face, and thus was unaware that her eyes were still ringed in dark shadow, that her cheeks were stark streaks of color, and her lips so red it appeared a great gash had been sliced across her face.

The girl smiled at him, a hideous sight, before she stepped into the apartment and went over to the fire to still her shivering and warm herself. Erik swallowed heavily and felt his stomach twist painfully at the sight of her. Where was Christine?

He felt confused and disgusted. '_Did you really let yourself forget what does before coming to you?'_

It took him a moment before he realized that she was speaking to him. "…always so cold out, but it won't be forever…"

Erik blinked and cleared his throat. His mind was taunting him with the remembered sight of Diamond giving private dances, her face blurring for a moment, shifting in his mind's eye so that it was his Christine giving the sickening performance...

Ice flowed through his veins, his own resentful anger spoke for him before he could stop the words. "Wash your face," he bit out; he did not say her name. "Don't _ever_ presume to come to me looking like this again,"

He hadn't recognized his own words, who was it that had spoken? The girl looked positively wounded at his command, but she wasted no time in disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later, he could hear the water running in the sink.

Erik put a hand to his forehead and then sighed. He went into the kitchen and stirred the bisque on the stove, his hand shaking slightly. He wasn't what most would call approachable or even friendly, but he had never been intentionally cruel. His entire life had been handicapped because of the way he looked, but through endless perseverance, he had nearly everything he'd ever wanted. All but a woman.

He'd taken bodies before, but no woman had ever taken his heart. He supposed that Christine Daae was the first to have such a hold over him, and yet he was powerless to explain himself to her. Erik sighed and bowed his head. He should not have been so demanding of her just then. He'd sounded brutal, as if he had the right to direct any part of her life.

There was no reason that he should think of himself as being above her, but Erik had only wanted to see the real Christine, not the dancing Diamond. He wanted all traces of the club gone from the girl; he knew what she did at the club, he didn't need a reminder thrown in his face. All of a sudden, Erik felt as if his home were somehow tainted, that Christine, in bringing Diamond with her, had infected the space with a disease of cheap, purchased sex.

He shook his head, muttering "Idiot," to himself over and over.

* * *

Christine watched as the last traces of her makeup went down the sink drain in a swirl of dark blue, garish pink and red. What had she been thinking, to come from the club to Erik's apartment with all of that trash on her face? She supposed that that had been the problem- she hadn't been thinking at all. She'd forgotten to wash it off at the club in her haste to come over and be with him. _Stupid girl._

She stared at her reflection for a few moments and fought down the hard lump gathering in her throat. Erik had taken one look at her and demanded that she wash her face. Christine knew why. In all the time they had spent together, he had never brought up anything about the club or how she had come to be there. She wasn't a fool, she knew Erik cared for her and had most likely tried to block what she did out of his mind. This was a man and as a rule most men were possessive, be it over money, objects or people. He might like to think that she was for him alone, but how could he have possibly believed that?

Christine belonged to no one- not the paying clients of the club, and certainly not to a man like Erik.

She took a deep breath and gingerly touched the side of hr face. Delicate cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, large eyes. Erik couldn't bear the evidence of what she did before coming to him. In a strange way, Christine felt guilty, as if she were a woman leading a double life, a wife who had been caught deceiving her husband.

The thought was ridiculous, but all the same Christine felt that she'd brought something unclean into Erik's majestic life. Why did he want her there with him? Didn't he know that she wasn't special, wasn't worth his notice, let alone his kindness?

Christine dried her face and left the bathroom to find Erik serving the dinner table. He glanced up at her and then pulled a chair out for her. She moved forward and took the seat, uttering a quiet "thank you" to him, though she kept her head down and her eyes averted.

The meal was quiet, neither of them could think of much to say. The incident had caused a rift between them, the night ruined by Christine's carelessness and Erik's apparent revulsion. She ate in silence, sipping the cognac even though she didn't care much for the taste. What did it matter? It was all ashes to her.

A few curt words, a few gestures and averted glances, it seemed that they were back to the tension of their first meeting.

_Two steps backward for every step forward…_

The elevator was thankfully quick and as they waited for the taxi to arrive in the lobby, Erik wondered how he could repair the damage done by his cruel words. Christine was staring out at the street through the front doors, shut off from him. He knew that he'd hurt her, knew he'd insulted her terribly.

But what could he do?

The white lights of the taxi arced over them and as one, they moved forward out of the lobby and onto the street. It was the moment that Erik hated the most, paying her for her time. It…_cheapened_ everything between them, breaking the illusion he'd built that Christine might actually wish to be with him of her own will.

Tonight especially only magnified their situation.

Erik reached for her hand and drew her in close to him. He leaned down, almost as if to kiss her, but he brought his mouth close to her ear. "I'm sorry for being cruel tonight," he whispered. "It is not my place to speak to you in such a way, no matter the circumstances. I hope that you will still see me, and in time come to forgive me,"

It was formal, as far as apologies went, but very sincere.

Christine drew back from him and nodded, gracing him with a soft smile. She withdrew her hand from him and slipped the money into her pocket, out of sight and out of mind. She didn't want that now.

He stepped back as well; they both missed the warmth of the other, though Erik was not as troubled as Christine. Her slim frame shivered slightly as a biting wind swept through the street and over her body.

Erik lifted the visible side of his mouth, slightly crinkling his eye by way of a small, quick smile. "You should let me buy you a proper coat," he said as he put a hand over the soft curve of her shoulder. He could feel her shiver beneath his hand.

Christine said nothing in reply, but she smiled again and then got into the cab. Erik watched as it pulled away from the curb and turned a corner, vanishing from sight.


	7. A Promised Gift

It had been a fairly lean night at Mama V's, the day after Erik had expressed his wish that Christine never wear her stage makeup to his home again. He had been clear on that demand, leaving Christine to wonder with a great amount of trepidation what other demands he might have in mind to impress upon her.

She strode into the back dressing room, finishing her shift, just as Summer and Crystal were about to end the night with their last dances. Diamond's hard exterior faded instantly from her mind once she was free from the audience, leaving Christine to change out of the painfully tight silver sequined ensemble of thong and miniscule bra. She was tired but her night was far from over.

There was still Erik, and her stomach gave a low growl of anticipation for his culinary skill- his meals were more or less the only meals she ate anymore, as if by ingesting his food she was somehow taking a piece of his life with her, a life of wealth and elegance; above all, a life of freedom.

Every night, the freedom tasted more wonderful than it had the night before, but always entirely out of reach.

"You skipped dinner again, didn't you?"

Christine sank into her chair before the counter and quirked an eyebrow at Tawny in the mirror's reflection. "How could you tell?"

"I'm not deaf. I could hear your stomach from across the room. You need to stop starving yourself, it's not good for you,"

At that comment, Christine couldn't help but laugh. "Not good for me? Then what do you call this?" She asked, waving her arm to encompass the club around them. "We have strangers grabbing at us all night long, this isn't a health spa. If I starve that's probably the best thing I could do for my body right now!"

Tawny frowned and ignored Christine's bizarre outburst. "Just promise me you'll grab a bite when you get home, all right? You're too skinny,"

Christine ignored her and smeared the cleansing cream over her face to remove the makeup that Erik so reviled.

* * *

_She will be here soon…_

Erik realized that he'd been pacing for the past several minutes, treading back and forth in front of his window wall, wringing his hands together like a nervous boy. What a fool! He knew that he was acting like an idiot- in fact he'd acted like an idiot from the moment Christine had crossed his doorstep with her lovely face covered in that detestable _whore paint_.

He knew he'd behaved terribly towards her, his voice had been domineering and bordering on cruel. What right did he have to speak to her in such a way? They had been making such headway together- Erik had not learned the depths of her soul or even what she enjoyed doing in her off time. So far, the girl had been a closed book about her life outside of the general small talk, what authors, music and movies she liked, etc., etc…

He wanted more, always more.

_'I want everything, and here I am wanting a poor slip of a troubled girl…I wish that I had more courage. If Christine were one of my usual society women, of a more presentable age and circle, things would be different- but I don't _want_ a usual society woman…'_

Damage had been caused, tonight it would be repaired and they could move forward together, one step at a time.

The doorbell rang. She was there.

Erik opened the door and smiled to see that her face was bare and beautiful, the way he hoped she would have it remain. Was he wrong to want to lure her away from the club? He didn't think so. If he had been a normal man there could have been other ways for him to express his feelings- but Erik had never been a normal man, which invariably could work for or against him.

She was there, shivering as usual. Erik stepped aside and let her in to warm herself by the fire. "Cold out tonight?"

Her hands were rubbing together furiously to bring feeling back into her numb fingers, and Christine shot him a playful smile. "Not just tonight, it's more like every night!"

Moment of truth. Erik took a deep breath and looked into her bold blue eyes. "I have the remedy for that,"

She tilted her head and quirked a brow at him. "Dinner?"

A small shake of his head. "No, much better than that. I have a surprise for you, but it can wait until after we eat,"

She nodded. "Um…thank you, Erik, but you really didn't have to do anything for me,"

He knew what she meant, but rather than get into anything too heavy, Erik decided to put it off. The rest of his life was dramatic enough; Christine was his escape from all the stress and frustration. He brought out two glasses and issued a selection. "Yes, I did. If not me, then who? But the surprise can wait. Would you like red or white tonight…champagne, maybe?"

A flip of her rough platinum mane. "Why? Are we celebrating something?"

Erik shrugged, refused to drop his gaze in a show of his burgeoning courage. "That depends entirely on you, my dear Christine. You remember the production?"

He had often spoken of his operas, most recently the latest production. It had been particularly difficult to arrange the set design and lighting, there had also been problems with the costume arrangement and the flight schedules for the lead vocalists flying in from Vienna.

Christine smiled, "How could I forget?"

Erik lifted the corner of his mouth to return her proud grin and then poured her a glass of bubbling champagne, a fine blush. "Well, as of 2:30 this afternoon, the entire thing came together, all at once." He paused for effect. "It was beautiful. My part is over now, I leave all of the business details in the hands of capable managers. They will advertise, they will do everything in their power to raise ticket sales. I would help them by buying, but as an employee there are certain benefits to be enjoyed,"

"What do you mean?"

Erik brought an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket. "Free tickets. They usually only send one, but this time I requested two. Would you accompany me, and put this second ticket to use?"

Christine was caught off guard. Was he actually asking her out on a _date?_

Catching her look, Erik continued smoothly. "I don't need an answer now. Think about it first, but I'll need to know at the end of the week. Now, I hope you're hungry, tonight it's smoked salmon steaks."

_I'm always hungry_, she thought even as her stomach gave a low rumble. A glint reached Erik's eyes but he did not remark on it.

They talked of the usual, in the usual way that they had developed over the past few weeks. Christine listened intently as Erik told her the story (which was truly very remarkable) of how all the problems facing the opera production seemed to evaporate at once earlier in the day.

She had forgiven him, of course, for his words from the night before.

There were precious few things that Christine could not forgive, and Erik's outburst had amounted to nothing in her eyes. So he detested the sight of her in stage makeup. She could understand. She hated herself more than he ever could.

As he spoke and refilled her wineglass, Christine studied him. Here was a strange man that had taken a special interest in her- so far he had required nothing of her but conversation over dinner, and without question he regularly paid her $500 for each night of her company. She presumed him scarred beneath his mask, but there was another part of her that wondered if Erik were not merely an eccentric, the mask being bizarre but unnecessary.

Erik wanted more from her now; he wanted her company outside of his home and in attendance at the opera. Inwardly, she shrugged to herself. To spend a bit more time with the man, in a public place would be safe. She surmised that if Erik had wished to hurt her by now, he would have done so in the first days of their arranged meeting. Now, however, she was a known face in the lobby. And, she had to admit that she had come to trust Erik, at least a little…

Besides, she had so enjoyed her one experience of the opera that she could find no real reason to refuse him.

"I'll go," she said abruptly.

Erik blinked. "Where?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I meant that I'll go with you to the opera. After hearing so much about it, I'd be crazy not to go see what took so much of your effort."

His expression was blank for a moment, frank surprise written across the exposed side of his face. Then, a quirk of a brow, a lift of the lips. "You truly want to go with me?"

Christine felt something twist in her chest at his question. "I…yeah, yes, I really want to go. I think it'll be fun,"

Erik came alive at that, and he took her hands. "Oh, Christine. Yes. It will be wonderful, I can promise you that!"

He was excited, and she had to wonder what he had in store. "The opera?"

He stood up and brought her with him, leading her by the hand over to his wall of windows. "My opera. Yes, of course, but more than that. Dinner, anywhere you want. I always hire a car when I see performances, we could go to see Times Square before the opera…"

As Erik described the elaborate night he could offer her, Christine could only watch his face in the reflection of the glass. He was so happy and excited, obviously thrilled that she had agreed to come out with him. She wondered if this plan of his had been in the works for a very long time or if it had occurred to him at the same time that his troubles with the production had been resolved.

Either way, Christine knew that Erik intended it to be a night to remember.

* * *

Too soon, their time together was over. Erik called the cab, almost forgetting about the gift that he'd promised to Christine.

She'd already zipped up her sweatshirt and had started towards the door. Erik called to her, "Wait up a minute, Christine. I have something for you,"

She stopped and watched as Erik disappeared down a hallway, only to reappear a moment later. The man raised his brow at her and a sort of embarrassed smirk passed over his mouth. "Since you are always cold and resistant to buy one for yourself, I thought I should take the liberty," he said as he opened a garment bag to reveal a fine winter coat of black brushed wool.

Christine's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. It would reach to the middle of her thighs, the broad hood would offer protection from the snow and the rain. For the complete set, Erik revealed the pair of gloves and long scarf; both the gloves and the scarf were scarlet wool, the ends of the scarf were embroidered in fine gold thread with Christine's initials.

"I…you didn't have to do this," she began.

Erik shook his head and approached her with the coat. Effortlessly, he stepped behind her and slipped the wool over her arms. He leaned down and brought his mouth close to her ear, but he was careful not to touch her. "You say that I didn't have to do this for you, but it was worth it to know that you will be warm from now on."

Erik stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders, then he guided her to face him. He held up the scarf and Christine twined it around her neck for added protection, and then slipped on the gloves. In the warmth of his apartment, she almost felt hot.

He could see tears gathering in the corner of her eyes; he wanted her gratitude, but never her upset! Hesitantly, he brought a hand to her face and brushed a tear with the pad of his thumb. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the warmth of her skin, the soft downy curve of her cheekbone. "Come now, Christine. No tears on such a happy night."

He put a hand on her lower back and guided her from his apartment and down to the lobby. They stood just outside of the building and Erik watched with a great deal of satisfaction as Christine smiled. She was warm, because of him, and soon, she would be safe and provided for because of him.

The cab swept up to the curb, and Erik moved to face her. Before he could speak or even move to slip the cab fare into her hand, Christine stepped in close and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The cab had already gone before Erik recovered enough to touch the spot where her lips had graced him, and he shouted his triumph to the pitch-black sky.


	8. The Lesser Of Two Evils

**Author's Note: Interestingly enough, there is an article in this month's issue of _Glamour _magazine entitled 'No One Should Have To Be A Stripper', I just thought that was crazy for it to come out the same day that I update this story. Anyway, the article will be used as inspiration for the next glimpse into the club life that Christine has had to endure for the past 6 months. Please read and review, but most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Christine woke the next morning with a slight tension in her stomach. Erik had given her gifts the night before- a fine coat with a pair of gloves and an embroidered scarf to match. Paying attention to detail, he'd had her initials sewn into the scarf ends. She knew that the man had noticed her shivering early on and he'd silently obliged to both have a fire ready and raise his apartment's thermostat for her. 

Whether it had been his way to further apologize for his abrupt demand the night before last, or if the gifts had been a tool meant to coax the acceptance of his invitation out, Christine didn't care to analyze closely. What was most important to her was that Erik had taken the time from his day to arrange the gifts for her. He'd noticed a need and fulfilled it. She was warm because of him.

Her kiss had been a show of gratitude, as had her swift departure- Erik hadn't been able to give her the night's payment. Christine was glad- she had wanted to hold onto the memory of a pleasant evening, the money would have cheapened things, tarnished the small amount of peace that she had in her life.

Christine had learned early on that money, or society's demand of it, had a way of ruining the simple pleasures of life.

She lay in bed for several moments, staring at the coat and scarf that she'd hung on a hook in the wall. The gloves were on the table in the tiny kitchen. She rose up from the bad and took a quick, icy shower before dressing for the day. Out of habit, she reached for the worn sweatshirt but stopped herself and slipped on the coat, wrapping the scarf around her throat.

Erik must have been waiting for an opportunity to give his gifts, the scent of his home- clean musk, hint of vanilla mint and man- still clung to the material. Christine left her apartment and hoped that the scents of New York City would not overpower Erik's lingering traces just yet.

Foolish hopes, for she had a very long walk ahead of her.

* * *

Tawny had not been much of a girly-girl when she'd been in high school. Sure, she'd dated and gone to parties, and she had worn makeup but she was by no means an expert in the field. False eyelashes were beyond her realm of expertise- her experience was more or less limited to liner and mascara. 

"Shit, I can't stand these things," she muttered as she tossed them aside in frustration. Glancing up, she saw Diamond walk into the dressing room. "Hey, you're here early,"

The slender blonde shrugged. "I, um…I know I am. I actually wanted to catch you before we went on stage tonight," she admitted as she took her seat at the counter and brought out her makeup bag.

"Oh, yeah? What's up?"

"Nothing earth-shattering," Diamond replied as she selected her colors for the night. "I was just wondering if you had a dress I could borrow,"

Picking up a brush, Tawny ran it through her hair. "A dress? Well, I probably have something that would fit you, I guess we're about the same size. Oh! I have this great fishnet mini that would look great on you,"

Diamond had been dusting bright color onto her apple cheeks, but she stilled her hand. "I'm sure it'd be great for the club, but I meant something a little different,"

"Different like how?" Tawny asked. Other girls were filing into the dressing room, all the rest preparing for the night's show.

"Well…I don't know. Fancier. Classy. I need a nice dress, you know, something that won't bare all. I was thinking something black and very simple."

Tawny nodded. "A little black dress?"

"If you have one,"

The girl rolled her eyes and couldn't help but scoff, "Of course I have one, what woman doesn't?"

"I don't."

"Well, that's because you're a weirdo. I think I might have about five, and I've been eying a sixth at Barney's. Anyway, sure I'll loan one to you. Why do you need it? Got a hot date?" Tawny asked, up for a little gossip.

Diamond slicked on bright pink lipgloss. "I'm not sure what to call it. I'm going to an opera pretty soon, and I want to look..._presentable."_

"The opera? Those put me to sleep, and most of them aren't even in English. You should go see a Broadway show instead, _The Producers_ is one of my favorites. If you want to look _presentable_ then it's only because you want to look presentable _for someone_. So who's the lucky guy? Or girl?" Tawny asked with a teasing edge to her voice.

Diamond sent her a mocking glare. "_He_ is a friend who just happened to have an extra ticket. I might be a pole-hugging lap dancer, but for once I'd like to look and feel like a lady,"

Tawny nodded. "I know the feeling. I damn near dropped dead when this cute guy opened a door for me at the bank the other day. It's the job, it makes us forget that on some distant planet there are still a few decent men out there. Not that we'd ever find them."

Diamond looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm? Oh, I just meant that strippers don't hook up to good guys with manners or steady jobs. I've been doing this to pay my tuition at Columbia University. I don't know about you, but there is no way in hell that this will become my career like it has with Cinnamon. She's 34 years old and hasn't done anything else a day in her life. It's pathetic. I've never even told anyone at school where I work but I think my roommate is picking up on my hints."

"Your hints?"

Tawny shrugged, "Well, I come home every night with a purse stuffed with cash, way more than I would have if I was just waiting tables at night. The girl isn't as stupid as she looks, regrettably. It doesn't help that she's a _Religious Studies_ major either, acting all high-and-mighty over me just because her daddy can afford to pay her rent. Still, I've never told where I work- the only dates I'd get would be from guys wanting a free show, you know what I mean?"

Diamond nodded and silently brushed on a thick coat of mascara.

"I'll bring the dresses tomorrow night and you can choose." Tawny said as she glanced at the clock- her shift was about to start. She moved towards the doorway leading to the stage and paused to look back at her. "Diamond?"

The blonde turned from the mirror. "Yes?"

"That's a really nice coat. He must be a great guy."

* * *

"No shivering, I suppose the coat set is working out well?" Erik asked as he stepped aside to let her into his home. 

Christine smiled at him. "The coat is working out fantastically, thank you so much,"

Erik shrugged. "Well, I couldn't let you go on the way you had been. And besides, I always turned the heat up for you, add in the fire and my apartment was an oven at night. I think this suits us both better, do you agree?"

Christine nodded and glanced into his living room. "I do agree, but you're the one who still has a fire going."

"Force of habit, or maybe I just like it for the ambiance. Red or white tonight?" He asked as he slipped the coat from her shoulders and hung it in the small closet close to the front door. He'd rarely asked for her preferences in what they would eat or drink together at night, but he was determined to cement a relationship with her. To do this, Erik wanted Christine to understand that he valued her opinion in the goings-on of his home, all the easier to have her become a part of it.

She thought for a moment. "That depends on what you've cooked tonight,"

Erik almost expected to hear her stomach growl just then. "Oh, nothing exotic. Steaks, pasta."

"Then it has to be red," Christine smiled at him and Erik nodded before fetching the correct bottle. He watched from the kitchen as she settled on the sofa, the spot closest to the fire. She appeared comfortable, and also slightly tired. Understandable, given the hour. If he could find a way to lure her away from the club for good, they could meet and part at more appropriate hours- or better yet, they would not part company at all.

Erik moved from the kitchen with two glasses of wine and handed one to her before taking the seat direct opposite. It was foolish to be infatuated with a girl like her: half his age, living a secretive life, stripping for a living and yet she was barely scraping by.

Foolish or not, Erik didn't care.

He liked Christine and wanted her to himself- more selfish than foolish then, but he truly did want what would be best for the girl and he knew that a life with him had to be at least tenfold better than the life she lead now. Perhaps there was arrogance in his thoughts as well.

"Tell me more about your life," Erik coaxed.

Christine looked over at him and shrugged with an embarrassed smile. "Um, well there's not much to tell. What do you want to know?"

Erik returned her smile. "The simple things. Your parents, if you have any siblings, maybe a pet?"

Her gaze darkened a touch at his subtle questioning, but Christine blinked and cleared her throat. "Well. We had a little dog once, back when we were all in Colorado. She was so cute, this tiny little thing. She was mine, a birthday present from my dad. I named her Skippy, but he made me give her away after he decided to move us to Dallas."

Erik raised a brow. "Your father?"

"My _step_father. Dad, my real father died when I was younger, I was twelve."

"I'm sorry, Christine. When did your mother remarry?"

She stared into her wineglass for a few moments. "Dad wasn't even cold in his grave." Her voice was quiet, full of a sudden bitter loathing. "She's never been strong, I think she just needed a man in the house, otherwise she might actually have had to face her responsibilities. Stupid bitch,"

Erik's eyes widened slightly at that, he hadn't heard Christine curse before. The girl was no longer looking at him, instead her eyes were focused on the wall behind him, or perhaps they were not focused at all. "Christine?"

Her gaze snapped back to him, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about? I think I drifted off for a minute there."

"A bit more than a minute. Is everything all right?" He asked, concerned.

She nodded, "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just tired, that's all. You know how people get when they don't sleep very well."

Erik nodded. "I do. Let me check on our dinner," he said as he rose from his chair and went into the kitchen. He wondered over what was wrong with Christine, why her words became so colored with anger just then at the mention of her mother, and what memories could possibly be swimming through her mind.

The steaks and pasta were coming along fine, it wouldn't be long before they could sit down to yet another nice meal together- all the better to take her mind off of whatever thoughts had upset her so. Erik turned to look at Christine as she struggled to stay awake on the sofa. He understood- the exhaustive dancing so late into the night, followed by the weeks of visiting with him were taking their toll on her.

He watched as her lids drooped low and then finally closed. Her head would nod forward but Christine would catch herself, only to start the whole thing over again. Here there was an opportunity.

Erik left the kitchen and moved behind the sofa. He hesitated a moment before allowing his hands to rest over her shoulders, steadying her, warming her. He brought a hand to cup her cheek and guided her to lean back against the sofa. She fought against him with the smallest of movements, but Christine was too exhausted to struggle against him. His comfort, coupled with the heavy tide of sleep, was too much.

Erik's hands remained on her, one resting over her narrow shoulder, the other cradling her face. He stood over her, watching, for several minutes. Christine was asleep in his home now, but this was not how he'd pictured it to be. He had hoped to have her sleep in his bed, beside him, safe and warm. Disappointments aside, Erik lifted his hands and went to the hall closet to retrieve a blanket for her.

He chose a soft linen and draped it over her after removing her shoes and lifting her feet to rest on the cushions. The idea of moving her to the guest room came to him, but he banished it quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Christine to wake up and realize that he'd been carrying her to a bedroom- she'd never believe him even if he told her the truth of his honest intentions. What had the world done to this poor girl?

Erik no longer felt hungry so he cancelled their dinner by storing everything for another night and then retook the chair across from her. Christine was an ever-growing enigma to him. She interested him very much- she was bitter and filled with pain, a mirror of himself in a way.

_Beautiful girl, sleep and know that you are safe. No harm will come to you while you are in my home._

Almost as if she heard his silent promise, Christine shifted, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat. Erik smiled and switched off the lights of the living room before retiring to his own large lonely bed.

The fire was still going; he let the flames keep vigil over the girl as she slept.

* * *

Erik's sleep had been restless, as he'd expected. One minute he was freezing, the next he was too hot. The pillows and mattress were never comforable. He knew the true culprit behind all this anxiety, of course: he was distracted over the girl. Christine was still sleeping in the living room. He knew because he'd gotten up to check on her several times already, only to find her in the same position. 

His thoughts swam with different scenarios of how she would react upon waking. Given the circumstances of how they'd first met, Erik knew there was a chance that she might think the worst of him, that he might have drugged her wine or some other clandestine nonsense. He remembered the anger in her voice the night before- bitter, vindictive, condemning. Erik didn't want to hear that voice directed at himself, he didn't feel that he'd done anything wrong.

At some point he did fall asleep, for he dreamt a bit, though his dreams were strange. He dreamt that he and Christine were trapped together in a white room and to pass the time they told each other all their secrets. Erik shook his head and sat up from the bed. To him the dream only reinforced what he already knew: he wanted to know more about Christine and he also wanted her to truly know him. None of his other women had.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and he stretched his arms. His legs were sheathed in plain black sleep pants while he was naked from the waist up. Erik stood and crossed his room to use the bathroom, then he returned to his nightstand for his mask. Erik slipped the porcelain on, matching the indentions of the mask to the contours of the scarred side of his face.

'_It wouldn't do to scare the girl out of her mind_,' he thought as he padded down the hallway to find her still reclined comfortably on the sofa, the blanket still draped over her long body. Erik nodded to himself and crossed to the kitchen. He stood before the coffee pot and debated with himself; if he ran the machine, Christine would wake up and she might be suspicious of him, especially as he was not wearing a shirt.

Erik left the machine off and recrossed the living room, returning to his bedroom. An idea began to form in his mind, and he resolved to himself that for his morning's coffee he would endure the mile-long line at the Starbuck's café across from the university where he assisted in the research department.

He thought to himself for a few more moments about what he should do with Christine and then decided that he would do nothing at all. Whatever happened when she awoke would be completely of her choosing. Best if he remove himself from the equation altogether.

Nodding, and thinking himself very clever, Erik went into his bathroom to take a shower before he dressed for the day. He went through the motions of his morning routine very quickly, packing his briefcase with all of his notes and his laptop computer. When he left his bedroom Christine was still asleep, and he could not fault her for that- it was barely six in the morning, the sun was only just peeking over the horizon.

Erik left a note on the glass table before her.

* * *

Two hours later, at exactly eight o'clock, Christine woke up with a slight start. For a moment she did not recognize her surroundings, where she was or how she had come to be there. Thankfully, her mind had always been sharp, and she recalled with easy clarity that she was in Erik's apartment and, obviously she had fallen asleep. 

Vaguely, she recalled gentle hands, one on her shoulder, the other on her face. Christine touched her cheek where the large, warm hand of a man had touched her. Erik. She rose to stand up and stretch her legs, and then she neatly folded the blanket that he'd put over her.

A smile absently swept over her face; Erik was the first man to treat her decently in months. Likely, he didn't know that, but Christine vowed that she would tell Erik when they next saw each other. Sitting down on the sofa, she tried to ignore the hunger pains in her stomach and she took up the folded paper on the coffee table marked with a large **C**.

Her brows raised as she read Erik's note- surprised to find that his handwriting was terrible.

**'Christine,**

**I hope you slept well, I did not want to wake you. I have left to go to the university but I will be back at about noon or so for lunch. Eat something. If you choose to stay, then my home is your home but if not, then I look forward to seeing you later on tonight.**

**Yours, Erik'**

At the bottom of the page he'd included both his personal cell number and the number for the research department where he could be reached. Christine mulled over her two options- she could either stay here in Erik's home, tempted by the lifestyle she could never have, or she could return back to her own dismal reality and face all that made her mierable.

Christine chose the lesser of two evils.


	9. Breakdown

Tiny microbes skittered and probed each other on a vial of glass, unaware and unconcerned with the rest of the world. Erik adjusted his microscope and refocused the lens. He'd been gone from his apartment for several hours already, and despite himself he was anxious to see if Christine had chosen to stay there or to leave, only to return to him later on in the night.

If she'd gone, then no harm done. If she'd stayed, however, Erik knew that he'd aroused her curiosity enough that she would be tempted to snoop through his things. He was counting on it. But for now, Erik was in the dungeon of Columbia, observing blood cells infected with various diseases. He was always very careful to wash his hands when leaving the lab.

"Erik, you almost out of here?"

He glanced up to find his longtime friend and colleague, Professor Derek Landou in the doorway of the laboratory. Other medical students in white lab coats looked over at Erik. There were five long tables set in the large, white room, each with a few students hovering over their own microscopes. He was an anomaly among them- older, on a first-name basis with their instructor, and the mask aside, Erik wasn't even a student at the university. He didn't mind if they looked at him, he'd grown used to the curious glances with every year that he'd spent in the lab.

Erik pressed his fingertips to his mask to make certain that it hadn't shifted, and then stripped off his own white coat to reveal the sleek black suit underneath. He glanced at the clock and almost allowed himself to smile. "I hadn't realized that it was so late,"

Derek raised a gray brow at him. "Are we looking at the same clock? It's fifteen minutes until lunch, not exactly closing time."

Erik shrugged. "No, not for you. I meant for myself, I need to get back,"

Derek followed Erik out of the lab and into the hallway, towards the exits. "What's your hurry? You always stayed after class to visit with me before,"

Erik shrugged and pulled his car keys from a breast pocket. "That was _before,"_

"Before what?"

"Just before!" Erik called to him as he made his way into the building's parking garage. Derek watched as Erik slid into his car and winced at the sound of screeching tires as he sped out, presumably home to something far more precious to him than scientific research.

* * *

Christine knew that she shouldn't have stayed. It wasn't her home, this wasn't her life. _'But then, I haven't had a home in almost ten years,'_ she thought to herself with a bitter frown. She was standing at the window wall, gazing out to the view that so often inspired Erik.

She couldn't help but wonder, again, perhaps for the hundredth time as she gazed across the city's skyline, why Erik was so keen on her. Her, Christine Daae, a girl of no intellect, no beauty and no talent. What could he want with her, just one more dumb slut writhing on a pole?

Christine sighed lightly and looked down to the street. Yellow taxis and cars of every other color weaved in and out of the painted white lanes while people, tiny people, either cut across traffic or more wisely kept to the sidewalks. She stepped back from the wall of windows and adjusted the blinds, absorbing the sight of Erik's home bathed in the early light of a new day.

The apartment really was wonderful. Elegant, eclectic, everything from the high ceilings to the dark hardwood flooring added a strange, lonely mystique to the man's home that she hadn't noticed in their nights together. His loft reminded her in a way of Raoul's family home; they had often spent time there together after school, and even sometimes during school when the mood struck them to skip a class period or two.

Just thinking of Raoul brought a wave of bittersweet memories to mind, but with a practiced hand she pressed them down and away.

Unable to stop herself, Christine stepped past the bathroom in the hallway, and she paused before a door. Curiosity ruled her hand as she grasped the polished gold knob and gave it a quick twist. The door swung in to reveal to her a rather impressive guest bedroom. It was impeccably tidy, decorated with slight hints of a woman's touch. The bedcovers were a deep emerald; the sheets a pale, complimentary beige. She closed the door and stepped back out to the hallway, turning her attention to the one remaining room.

Erik's room, she knew. Christine ignored the voice in the back of her mind that warned her against what she felt so compelled to do. Azure eyes settled on the large bed in the center of the room. The bed was large, and covered with a black comforter. Scarlet sheets were underneath. The bed itself was not so impressive; it was of a simplistic design, there were no overdone posts or decorative boards- it was masculine and direct. The covers were still rumpled from where Erik had slept and then risen earlier that morning.

Christine tried and failed not to think of the man in this bed, sleeping alone.

The dresser next caught her attention, as did the clutter atop it. She stepped in closer to find a blue bottle of cologne. Feeling slightly foolish, and more than a little curious at this point, Christine lifted the bottle and breathed in the scent. It was slightly musky, a hint of smoked earth and rainwater. _Erik._

She replaced the bottle and saw a small picture frame close to the edge. Lifting it, Christine raised her brows and smiled at the image of a much younger, unmasked Erik. It took her a moment to be sure, but Christine recognized the shape of his hairline, the flash of his eyes.

It was Erik at perhaps twelve years old, his unveiled face full and captured in the camera lens. He had been a lanky boy, tall and awkward with long limbs. His dark hair was shaggy in the photograph, long enough that it had brushed his shoulders. He was smiling, he seemed very happy.

Christine set the frame back in its place and left Erik's bedroom, but not before she ran her hand over the ebony comforter atop his bed. Christine was and always had been a very physical person. More often than not, when she was comfortable, she communicated by touch. The comforter was soft under her hand; soft, smooth, very warm.

She stepped back into the living room and retook her place on the sofa, wondering what to do with herself as she waited for Erik to come back sometime around lunch, as he had written to her. The idea came to her that to repay Erik in some small way, she ought to have a meal waiting for him when he got in.

The girl rose from the couch and went into the bathroom to wash her face, brush out her ragged mane of hair, and she then applied a bit of makeup for the day. She was very careful not to wear too much.

Erik's kitchen yielded a great bounty, so many different foods were available that she stood for a full five minutes mulling over what might make the best lunch for them to share. In the end she decided on sandwiches, and she got to work setting out the spread of cold cuts, cheese, vegetables and bread.

Out of respect for Erik, Christine ignored it when his house phone began to ring. She might be his guest, but she wouldn't presume to answer his telephone- it might have been one of his business colleagues, and she thought it would be best if she more or less remained invisible. _'No one needs to know that I'm a part of his life- he doesn't need the embarrassment of his friends knowing that I'm here,'_

The phone continued to ring until the answering machine picked it up. Christine dropped her knife at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Erik, where are you? It's me, May. Just calling to let you know that all the expense reports will be sent over to your office by Monday. And just so you know, Erik, if you want pussy you don't have to buy the bitch a coat- next time just wave a dollar in the air!"

The line clicked to signal that May had cut the connection. Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. '_Why bother to be angry? She's right,'_

She leaned over the kitchen counter once she heard movement at the door. A click of the lock, a firm twist of the knob, and in strode Erik. He looked as formal as ever in his tailored black suit and silk necktie. Christine wondered if this strange man was perhaps part Italian as she was; it would go a long way to explain why his attire was always so well put together, even in the midnight hour when she came to him in her nightly visits.

Erik pocketed his keys and his expression brightened tenfold once he saw that she had not left, as Christine assumed he thought she would. His eyes shone brightly in the sunlight coming in from the windows. The man's lips slanted upward in a warm, humble smile, and despite herself Christine was surprised that he'd worn his mask outside of his home. Perhaps he really did need it to cover something wrong with his face.

"Christine, you stayed," he said as he shut the door.

She shrugged and nodded, clearing her throat before speaking. She felt awkward for some reason, but why should she? Wasn't this the same man that she had met and dined with for several days already? She tried to tell herself that nothing had changed, but she was only fooling herself.

The memory of Erik's large, gentle hands on her shoulder and cradling her face easily swam to the surface of her memory; he had warmed her, fed her, given her gifts and now opened his home to her completely. Christine would have had to be deaf, blind and dumb not to have understood him.

It could never happen. Everything that May had said was true. It pained her to know that it was all an act. "Yeah, I made you some lunch. The least I could do after you took care of me…I'm sorry for falling asleep in here like that," she said, feeling heat rise to her face and neck. "I've just been a little tired lately,"

Erik moved forward and took her hand into his, and shook his head. "It was nothing- whenever you need a place to stay, or even if you're tired after we have dinner, you may stay here without question."

Christine smiled and rolled her eyes, "Oh, come on, Erik, I can't sleep on your couch every night,"

"Absolutely not. You can have the guest room whenever you like. I was going to carry you in there last night, but-" he faltered for a moment before catching himself. "I…mm, didn't want to disturb you. Anyway, think nothing of it. Are you ready for the opera?" He asked quickly, changing the subject.

She nodded. "Yes. One of the other- a girlfriend of mine is going to let me borrow a dress. I'm guessing that a little black dress will be all right for the opera, won't it?"

Erik nodded. "There is no official dress code, you're lovely as you are."

Heat rose to both their cheeks at his comment.

"I should probably get going," Christine said abruptly, sidestepping Erik to take up her purse and retrieve her coat from the front closet.

"What? No, you don't have to leave, won't you stay and have lunch with me?" He asked, following her out the door and into the hallway.

Christine shook her head. "No, it's ok. I'm not really hungry,"

Erik's eyes flashed in irritation- why was she running from him? "Little liar, I can hear your stomach echoing off the walls!"

She gave him a slight smile and pressed the button to summon the elevator. "I promise you, I'm fine. I'll see you later on tonight though,"

"Wait, let me call the cab service and I'll have them take you home-"

Christine raised her hand to silence him. "It's all right, Erik. I don't need you to do that for me. Besides, I'm not going home."

The elevator doors slid open and Christine stepped in quickly. She did not say goodbye to him as the doors slid shut again to take her away. Erik stepped back into his apartment, his light mood doused by the swift departure of the girl. What had happened to make her avoid him all of a sudden?

Thoughts and questions that he could not answer flew in and out of his mind. _'Was I coming on too strongly? Did I scare her? Why wouldn't she stay to have lunch with me? I only wanted her to myself for a little longer…'_

It was only after listening to May's message that Erik understood.

* * *

"I like them all, they're fantastic," Diamond said as her eyes took in the different dresses hanging in the dressing room of Mama V's.

Crystal smiled, "You have great taste, Tawny. I sort of like that backless one, but the one with the sequins is nice too. I don't know how you're going to decide, Diamond, they're too similar and too different at the same time," she observed.

Diamond winked at her, "Don't let my ratty day clothes fool you, I used to have a great wardrobe. In high school I was once voted as _best dressed_."

Tawny peeked around a curtain as she changed into her fly-away stage costume. "Well what happened to that fashion sense? No offense or anything, but even I can manage to buy a decent coat. Although I do admit that your sugar-daddy has great taste,"

"He's not my sugar-daddy," Diamond asserted quickly.

Crystal scoffed, "Yeah, right, that's what we all say. 'He's just a friend' or 'he's just being generous'- please! I know that you're new to this whole thing, but the sooner you learn, the better."

Diamond rolled her eyes, "Oh, what now?"

"You wait and see. This guy that invited you to the opera is the same guy that gave you the coat, right?"

"Well, yeah."

Her dark eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And he's the same guy you've been seeing for dinner? He's May's friend or something, isn't he?"

"…yes…"

Tawny pulled back the curtain to reveal her costume-**Santa's Saucy Helper**- a getup of scarlet leather and white marabou feathers. "Too tacky?" She asked, looking for approval.

Crystal didn't bother to point out the obvious fact that it didn't matter how tacky the costume was since it wouldn't remain on for very long once she stepped onto the stage. She ignored Tawny's question and turned back to Diamond. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Just be sure to make him wear a condom- most of the time it's the girl who catches something from a John, not the other way around."

Diamond swallowed at Crystal's warning, and grabbed a dress off its hanger. She turned to Tawny, "Can I borrow this one?"

* * *

"Oh, Christine. I was afraid that you wouldn't come back," Erik said as he opened the door and took a step back to let her into his home. His relief was visible as his eyes met hers.

There was tension in the air, Christine felt it the moment she'd looked into his worried gaze. Still, she tried her best to appear casual as she slid off her coat and allowed Erik to take it from her. "Nope, I'm afraid it's really me."

"I just thought that, well, after hearing May's message, you might…" Erik let his words hang in the air, hoping that Christine might fill in the blanks. She didn't.

"I might what?"

There was a new, almost defiant spark in her eyes that Erik found both challenging and somehow irresistible. The young woman before him had spirit, it was thrilling.

"Might not want to come back to see me anymore," he finished lamely.

Christine sighed and turned away from him to stand before the fireplace. The flames seemed especially bright that night. "That depends on if what she said was true or not,"

Erik was silent. He couldn't understand her line of questioning- did she really think that he'd made her out to be a…?

"I'm no one's whore," she said with sudden conviction as she turned around to face him. The overhead lighting was so low that the fire itself had been the main source of illumination; the gold flames framed her in powerful silhouette. She enchanted him, but Erik's mind did not waver from her words.

He wasn't sure how to respond. "I never said that you were. What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "Look, you didn't have to go through all this trouble. You didn't have to make me believe…I need that job, Erik, so if you want it, let's just get it over with and-"

"Christine! Stop it, just enough of this! What the hell has gotten into you?" Erik demanded, his stomach clenching at what she was implying.

She rolled her eyes, "A reality check, for one,"

Erik's eyes flashed, but not with excitement. He was becoming frustrated and uncertain, emotions that were as unwelcome to him as a winter's flu. "I won't ask what that means. Something happened today, I want you to tell me exactly what it was. I've never hurt you, I never…never propositioned you. I'm _nothing_ like those other men, Christine!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you doing this? Why are you always being nice to me?" She demanded, her voice strained.

"Because I…well, because…"

She nodded, "Because why? You thought I'd be on my backfor the money? On my knees for the coat? What was the ticket for, Erik? A weeks's worth of the _Kama Sutra_?" Her voice was demanding, harsh and painful.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment to attempt to calm his nerves and took a deep breath. He couldn't believe the filth coming from such a beautiful mouth! What had happened to make her think of him this way? He'd never touched her! He had explained on their second night together that he wanted nothing from her, nothing!

"Christine, stop it. You tell me what happened right now," he ordered her, his voice dropping low. Erik was becoming furious with her for continuing on this fit- the girl wouldn't even explain herself to him!

"Or what? You'll rape me? Beat the shit out of me? Kill me and dump me in the river? Go right ahead- it's the perfect crime, there's no one that would look for me, there's no one…" The girl's rant dissolved suddenly into choked sobs.

Ignoring her protest, Erik moved forward and braced his hands over her shoulders, forcing her to sit on the sofa. He kept his grip sure so that she could not run from him; Erik knelt down before her on the floor. Christine brought her hands up to cover her face and cried for several minutes.

Somehow, Erik's arms came around her fully, and Christine found herself crying into his shoulder. His deep voice rumbled into her ears, coaxing and calming, steady as a distant drum. "Christine, Christine…please, whatever trouble you have, I want you to tell me. I will help you, I can take care of you," he pleaded with her, desperate to remove this unnamed burden. Erik wanted her in his home and his life, but above all he wanted her happy.

There was something there between them, some trust, some kinship. Maybe Christine only needed someone to hear her voice, maybe Erik was the only one she could trust to listen, but the reasoning did not matter.

What mattered was that Christine told Erik everything, and that she did not go back to her apartment that night.


	10. Aftermath

It was hours before the girl had exhausted herself, before she had collapsed against him, her nerves burnt out. Erik had not been able to say anything as Christine had rattled off a list of names and random, half-finished thoughts in a fit of sobbing. She had held fast to the lapels of his suit, murmuring her confession into his chest.

When it had all become too much, Christine had boiled over, her nerves too frazzled to continue. Erik had felt her thundering heartbeat against his own chest and had cradled her shaking body as she'd told him only a part of the world's weight that she'd been carrying on her shoulders. Her voice had quieted, and he had smoothed his hands up and down her back, desperate to comfort her. He had no idea of what he could say, he just continued to soothe her. Erik moved back just enough so that he could look at her face, not at all surprised to find that within moments of the end of her tirade, she had fallen asleep.

Erik smoothed the hair back from her face and cupped her cheek. The skin around her eyes was still red and swollen, the salted remains of her tears clung to her cheeks. Erik kept the girl cradled against his chest for several minutes as she slept. He was unsure of what to do with her, but decided that she would remain there as his guest, nevermind what she had said before.

Erik was careful not to move too quickly or make a sound as he lifted Christine and moved to carry her down the hall, towards the guest bedroom. She felt too light in his arms, she had not been eating well. With all care, Erik laid Christine down on the spare bed, and he kneeled down at her bedside.

_I do not understand everything that has happened to you, Christine, but I give you my promise that I will save you, no matter what the cost._

The only liberty Erik took with her body was to plant a kiss both on the inside of her wrist and over her palm, sealing his word.

He left the room after covering her with a blanket, and then went into his own bedroom. Erik locked his door in case Christine might wonder in, and then finally removed his mask, setting it on the top of his dresser.

It was late, and he was very tired, but for the sake of the girl sharing his home, Erik struggled to recall the names that she had sobbed to him.

_Rebecca, Raoul, Michael, Francesca, Meghan…I couldn't understand her, she was hysterical. Oh, Christine, if you cannot tell me what is hurting you, then you leave me no choice but to find out for myself. I only pray that I can save you…_

* * *

Christine awoke several times that night, breaking free from one nightmare only to be pulled down into another, each more horrible than the last. She could take no more, and so refused to succumb to sleep again. Exhausted, haunted eyes took in the room around her as she lay in bed. 

In the darkness there was no light to guide her, she came to understand where she was by the scent of this unfamiliar room. It smelt of musk, water, earth and man; the clean, safe scent of Erik's home. Christine rose to sit on the edge of the bed. She brought a hand to her throbbing temples and grimaced; her cheeks were dry from the salt of hours of tears shed, her lips and eyes were still swollen.

How long had it been since Erik had carried her away and put her to bed? Christine had no memory of him carrying her in, but she knew that he had for she had no memory of coming into this room by her own volition.

_What did I tell him last night…? _She wondered.

It was useless; the blurred memories of the night before were returning quickly. It had been a moment of intensity that had led to her breakdown. Now that she was calm and her mind was clear, Christine knew that it had been coming for months. That her fury and true despair had erupted upon Erik…

_I told him everything…God, Erik, what you must think of me…_

Shame, strong and painful lanced through her chest. She was mortified, humiliated. Christine felt that if Erik were to come to her then, and if his eyes should light upon her with concern, or worse, pity, she could very well die.

It would be a blessing, a release from it all, but Christine did not have the right to renege on the promise she made to herself.

She stood from the bed and shifted her weight from one leg to the other as a wave of dizziness swept over her. How long had it been since she'd eaten? How long had it been since she'd truly slept? Christine took several deep breaths and searched for a way to tell the time. Her room was pitched in darkness, with only a bit of light coming in from under the door to the hallway. There was no clock in the room, she would have to leave the privacy and darkness to gain her bearings, but Christine could not find the courage in herself to face Erik.

Erik, who now knew the truth of the woman under his roof…

She could not see him, she was disgusted with herself, just as he undoubtedly was. She had to get away from him, to escape from his gentle embraces, his soothing voice of comfort. She had to get away, she could not presume on the man's kindness any longer.

Christine didn't deserve him.

Carefully, Christine slunk out of the spare bedroom and padded down the hallway. Erik had not stripped her of her shoes as he had the night before when she had fallen asleep; the only items she needed to recover were her purse and also her coat. The idea had come to her to leave it, just as she was leaving Erik, but the snow flurries she could see in the window made her think twice.

It was freezing outside, it would be suicide to leave dressed as she was in her simple sweater and jeans.

Christine took her coat and slung her purse over her shoulder. She made not a sound as she slinked out the front door and closed it softly behind her. She was clever, sly, stealthy.

Erik nodded his approval from the shadows as he watched her depart. He listened and then heard the ding of the elevator. It was only after he was certain that she had left that Erik poured himself a glass of scotch, and toasted to the empty apartment.

"To Christine Daae, soon to be the woman in my life."

* * *

"Seems to me that your girl has had it pretty rough the last few years," 

Erik sat, motionless on his sofa. The man across from him was someone that he trusted, a rarity in Erik's life. Charles Maddrox, once known as 'Mad Maddrox' in his former precinct, was an older man; retired now at 73, he had a stern face and a gently receding hairline, his youth had been sapped by a career in the New York police department. Erik trusted him in a way honed from years of companionship.

Maddrox had been the officer on duty when the call was made, perhaps thirty years ago, to take Erik into protective services. They had maintained a steady friendship since that time, though Erik was loathe to recall his past.

"Tell me everything," he implored.

Maddrox sipped the coffee that Erik had provided. "I don't have to tell you a thing, boy."

Erik's eyes flashed. "I'm not a boy. In case you haven't noticed, I've been a man for a few decades already." He said dryly. "I didn't ask you over to argue over ages."

Maddrox raised his gray eyebrows. "No, Erik, you called me last night at two in the morning and demanded that I get back in touch with my contacts in the precinct. You didn't ask too nicely, I might add."

"The girl, Maddrox. Tell me,"

He sighed, "All right, all right. Look, I went through my usual contacts through the P.I. network and from there this wild goose chase put me in with national CPS and then into SVU. Your girl has a lot of history,"

"I'm sorry, I'm a little behind on this season of _Law & Order_. Enough with the initials, just tell me what you've found." Erik demanded, true anger coloring his voice. He had no time for games; he needed all of Christine's story so that he could help her.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, kid. I did you the favor, try to remember that. Now look, I was trying to tell you. This girl has been in trouble since she was about thirteen, I have a buddy who works in SVU- that's _Special Victims Unit_- and he was able to pull her record." Maddrox informed him, pulling out his briefcase and removing a manila file folder.

"Now, it's not strictly regulation to do this, in fact it's illegal. I had to tell him that I was acting as a private dick for some broad uptown. You can have that file for one day, just one, but I think for you that should be plenty." Maddrox winked as he stood up to leave.

Erik rose as well and walked him out. "Maddrox, thank you for this. I just want to help her,"

Charles nodded and put on his coat, secured the scarf around his collar. "I know you do, Erik. I had a look at the file on the way over here from the precinct. Hell, if anyone could use a friend, it's your girl."

Erik nodded as Charles left his apartment, and he took a deep breath as he eyed the file resting on his coffee table. Could he do this? To invade Christine's privacy…it was wrong, if she should find out…

But perhaps Maddrox had been exaggerating? No. The man was not prone to embellishment. Erik brought his fingertips to his temple in a slight massage. The night before had been troubling to him- after putting Christine to bed he had called Charles and more or less demanded that he find out everything he could about her past to better explain to him what she had been through.

It was wrong, it wasn't fair to her…but she had left. Erik was no fool. If Christine had been willing to explain to him, she would have stayed through into the morning. She had left to avoid him; Christine had no intention of explaining herself. Erik had watched as she'd slunk from his home like a thief in the night.

_What other choice do I have?_

Erik strode over to the sofa and removed his mask. He was home, he was alone- he didn't care about his face except when in the company of others. Steeling himself, Erik opened the file and began to read Christine's past.

* * *

**One Week Later**

Diamond stalked backstage into the dressing room, naked and energized from the vigorous moves that she'd used onstage. To better avoid Erik, she had taken the day shifts and usually she arrived home by 5 o'clock rather than close to two in the morning every night. She was already sleeping better because of the schedule change, though nightmares continued to visit her.

It had been several days since that awful scene she'd made in his home, she still cringed whenever she thought about it. It had been shameful to become so upset and vulnerable to him, to release all of her fury and pain to him. It wasn't fair to Erik, he had only shown her kindness since the moment that they'd met. He only wanted to cook for her, to have her in his home so that he wouldn't be so lonely.

Diamond looked at herself in the mirror. _Was that all he'd wanted?_

Christine shook her head, unsure of how to answer the question. Erik might have wanted more than the friendship they'd come to share, but he'd never advanced on her, he'd not even mentioned his intentions to her.

She sighed and began to take off the stage makeup that made her Diamond to the world. Christine had had more time on her hands since she had changed her work schedule and stopped seeing Erik, but it was time ill spent. To stop herself from spending money, she rarely did anything productive or particularly fun.

The night before she had taken a walk down 5th Avenue, just to see the world-famous boutiques, but she hadn't touched a thing or even set foot inside any of the shops. She feared being treated like trash by the saleswomen.

Erik had fed her, warmed her, given her gifts and allowed her to stay overnight not once, but twice, and how had she reacted? By accusing him, by ranting at him and ultimately leaving him. Her own actions upset her, she hated the person that she had allowed herself to become, but it was far too late by now. She hadn't heard a word from May, and Erik hadn't sought her out on his own yet, so she could only assume that it was all over. Erik might have even moved on to another girl by now.

Christine didn't want to think about why the idea hurt her so much.

"So, Diamond, tonight's the big night, huh?"

She turned to see Summer at the other end of the counter, she herself was removing her makeup.

"Sorry, what do you mean?"

"Don't tell me that you've forgotten all about your big date! Tawny said that a client was taking you out to see _Cats_ or something like that. What's up? I mean, you're still going, right?"

Christine removed the last traces of her makeup and sighed. "Um…well, I was going to, but things haven't really been working out all that well…"

Summer nodded and pulled her hair into a quick, messy ponytail and then moved to pull on a sweater. "Say no more, I get it. He's married, right?"

Christine shrugged absently, "I don't know. As wonderful as he is, yes, he probably is."

Summer frowned. "Hey, come on Diamond, chin up. We got into this business for the money, remember that. This is all for money, not to meet Prince Charming. You and I both know that there's no such thing, just guys with enough money to pay your rent."

Christine nodded and moved to her locker to pull on some clothes.

"Yo, Blondie,"

Christine had just pulled on her jeans and fastened her bra, she turned around to find May standing in the doorway. Cigarette smoke was wafting about in the air around her, creating a strange sensual mystique, undeserving of such a coarse subject. The older woman stepped further into the room and took a final drag before tossing the butt onto the tile floor. Her hair was a different shade, this time around it was darker, almost burgundy, and she seemed much thinner than the last time Christine had seen her.

May was the manager but she preferred as little contact as possible with the dancers- she was rarely seen outside of the office and almost never came out to the club floor, much less the strippers' private dressing room.

Christine narrowed her eyes. "Me?"

May rolled her eyes in return, "Shit yeah, I'm talkin' to you. You're seeing Erik tonight, he called and said he hasn't seen you around lately. Now why is that? You find another John to take care of you? Some wrinkly old bastard whose dick is too shriveled to use you?"

Christine's mouth fell open at her questions. "What are you-? No, I didn't find someone else or anything, I just-"

"Good, then you'll see Erik tonight." May declared as she turned to leave.

"Wait, no, May you don't understand. I can't see him," Christine tried.

May whirled on her. "Oh, yes you will see him, _Diamond_. I already asked if he wanted another girl, but he said no. _'I only want to see Christine'_, that's what he just told me on the phone. He invited you out, and you're going. You're going, or you're out on your ass. The bouncer won't even let you clean off your counter space, you understand me? I'll make it so the closest club you can work will be in Jersey!"

Christine faltered. "You know I need this job,"

May regarded her steadily. "Then you know where you'll be tonight."

May handed her a slip of paper with an address written on it. Christine took it, helpless and once again, trapped by May's ultimatum.

"I thought so. Erik said that was the address of some fancy place. Why he would take _you _there, I have no idea, but I promise that if you embarrass him at all and I hear about it, you'll be gone. You understand me?"

Beaten, and close to tears, Christine nodded.

"Good, now get going," May barked. Christine shuffled out of the dressing room, and May turned to Summer, who was still in her seat before the mirrored counter. The golden blonde was a little shocked at the exchange between them; Christine had obviously had no choice in meeting this friend of May's, but why was she allowing herself to be forced into this type of situation?

May gingerly touched her overdyed waves and put a hand to her temple for a moment. She took a deep breath and looked at Summer for a few moments. "Hey there Katherine. Listen, I need you to do a favor for me tonight, all right?"

* * *

_Why am I doing this? How did things come to this? I had a home once, parents, friends, a life!_

Christine fought against her tears as the emotion closed her throat. She shook her head and took several deep breaths; in an effort to distract herself, she looked out the window of the taxi and watched as people and places passed by.

Erik had put May up to forcing her to meet with him, but why should Christine be surprised? He'd done it once before, of course he could do it again. She swallowed and allowed herself a few moments to let the tension ebb from her mind.

If Erik wanted to play out his fantasy of taking her on a real date, she had no choice but to let him. Crystal had mentioned that men often did that- bring escorts and strippers to upper echelon affairs simply to bolster their own confidence. Somehow, Christine hadn't thought that Erik would be so weak. She had thought he was different.

_I'm _nothing_ like those other men!_

He had claimed to be so different, so noble, but she could see the truth now. Erik was only a man. Christine could not hate him for simply being what he was, but her own disappointment was crushing. Still, she had not been forced into the stripping business to find Prince Charming, it had been for the money, just as Summer had said.

_I just wish...God, why couldn't you have been real?_

Christine swallowed her tears and pulled a compact from her purse and looked herself over. The makeup that she'd applied at home appeared to be intact, hopefully it would stay that way for the rest of the night. Tawny's little black dress had fit her perfectly; she would have to make sure that Erik didn't rip it when the time came for him to-

"Here we are, miss,"

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up. The cab was stopped before _21_, a landmark of New York City in and of itself. Christine stared at the beautiful townhouse for a moment before blinking and then paying the driver. Quickly, she stepped out onto the sidewalk, careful not to step into any puddles. She pulled her coat more tightly to stave off the biting chill, and suddenly felt thankful that she'd arranged her hair into a twist rather than let it loose in the wind.

Christine hurriedly stepped inside and was greeted by a chic hostess. "I heard it would start snowing later tonight,"

Christine nodded at the young woman, feeling at least comfortable enough to speak to her as an equal. She was not a stripper there in the foyer of the elegant brownstone; she was chic herself, a refined young woman to meet a man for dinner. Thinking of Erik calmed her nerves somehow, though she had no idea what she could possibly say to him to explain her abhorrent behavior from the past week.

She wondered if he would care to hear anything she said, or if he would rather just hurry on to the main event of the night.

"It hasn't started yet, but you know it's on it's way," Christine replied, happy that her voice remained free of trembling.

The hostess nodded, "Well I just hope it doesn't start until my shift is over, I have a long drive back home. What about you?"

_I have a long cab ride back to Chinatown,_ she thought dismally, but she only said, "Same here."

Small talk taken care of, the hostess got down to business, "All right then, I'll bet you're ready to eat and be back before the flurries start. Are you alone or are you expecting a party?"

Christine swallowed. "I…I'm meeting Erik Latour, but I don't know if he's here or not."

The hostess nodded and looked through a reservation log. She looked up again, smiling, "We have him right here, confirmed a 7 o'clock reservation for two, and he arrived at 6:50. He's a regular here, and he's usually early. Right now, he's in the lounge, probably drinking a Latour- he has a drink named after him, did he ever tell you?" The hostess asked as she led Christine through a hallway and into a fine, elegant room that screamed of wealth and history.

Signed photographs of celebrities lined the walls, as did little articles of memorabilia. Plush leather chairs were scattered about the room, paired or placed into a group of three. There were men and women of all ages, everyone bright and chatting happily with each other. Envy came over her- the people there in the lounge all seemed so far removed from what she had been through in the past half of her life, it didn't seem fair at all.

No one took much notice as the hostess led her across the room, toward the authentic fireplace where a man stood facing the flames, his back showing to the room. Christine didn't need the hostess to direct her, she knew the shape of Erik. It was easy, perhaps far too easy for her to recognize the lines that his lean figure cut in his finely tailored black suit.

As they approached from the side, Christine set her eyes on the exposed half of his face. He was staring at the fire within the grate, the flames bronzing his skin and gilding his eyes. He appeared so normal standing there, just another man in the lounge, simply enjoying a drink as he awaited his dinner guest.

The hostess spoke, "Mr. Latour?"

Erik turned at the sound of his name, his stark white mask swiveling into view. His golden eyes widened slightly at the sight of Christine. She felt her heartbeat speed up in reaction to the expression that his exposed face held for her. His eyes softened, his mouth quirked into a sad, slightly awkward smile. Obviously, he hadn't expected her to come back, though he had to have known she had no choice. Christine felt her stomach clench in strange anxiety.

Erik moved toward her and held out his hand. She swallowed and forced a slight smile to her face as she placed her hand into his. "I'm so glad that you've come," he said quietly.

She inclined her head. "You knew I would."

Erik didn't say anything, though his eyes flashed at her. The hostess led them to their table.


	11. Confessions

**Author's Note: Perhaps this chapter is not the kindest to post on Christmas Eve, but It's been a full week since my last new chapter, I can't put off updates just because of bad timing. The truth of Christine's past is revealed here, not happy, but at least the wait is over.**

* * *

Upon laying eyes on Christine, Erik had felt tormented, upset, and helpless. This beautiful, delicate creature, who had been so mistreated by the world. His urge to protect and keep her became stronger than ever as he pulled out a chair for her. 

Christine turned to take her seat, presenting him the sight of her bare back. The dress was very becoming, and very black. He liked it, the dress suited her well. Erik took his seat across from her and thought that they could make a good match, if only she agreed tonight.

Erik made a wine selection, a strong Cabernet, and the waitress went off to fetch the proper bottle. He looked down at the menu, but he could feel Christine's eyes on him. "Erik?"

He looked up to see the girl so forlorn and apologetic that his very heart might have broken for her. His exposed features softened. "Yes, Christine?" He asked.

"I'm sorry for-"

Erik reached out and took her hands into his, enveloping her tiny paws. "No, no, Christine, please. There will be time for all that later. Tonight is meant to be special. Please, I want you to enjoy yourself. Enjoy the meal, and my opera. We will talk later,"

Sighing slightly, Christine nodded and looked down at her own menu. Erik had tried to reassure her, but the tension in her chest remained strong.

* * *

The food came, and the meal was perfect. Christine preferred Erik's cooking above all else, but the chef at _21_ was posing as stiff competition. There was a small in-house band setting up to play, but to Christine's slight disappointment, they could not stay to dance. 

Erik shook his head, "I'll take you dancing any other time that you wish, but the opera awaits, my dear,"

Christine smiled at his frequent use of the endearment, as if she were somehow special to a man like him. _He might take me out to dinner and to his opera, but I can't let myself believe in any of this_, she thought with a slight pang.

Erik stood and held his hand out to her. Without hesitation, Christine put her hand into his and allowed him to guide her to the front of the building. All throughout, Erik never once touched anything other than her hand, her shoulder, or the small of her back when he lead her. He was as respectful and gentle as he ever had been, as if nothing had happened to upset the balance in their tentative relationship.

He stepped out first and showed Christine to the curb, where a large black car awaited them. Erik opened the door for her and followed her into the back. He had a quick word with the driver and then settled beside her as the car began to move down the icy streets of New York.

Christine looked out the window, bracing herself in case Erik went back on his word and confronted her about the last time that they had met, when she had accused him and suffered the breakdown in his arms. Erik didn't say anything about that night, however, he only took her hand into both of his and spoke of the opera.

"You haven't been to the Metropolitan opera, have you?" He asked.

Christine shook her head, "No, but I walk by it every once in awhile. It's a beautiful building,"

"Yes, it is," he said, "But beauty truly does lie beneath the surface. The interior is magnificent, the auditorium divine,"

She shrugged, happy to talk to Erik about anything other than the topic that filled her with numbing dread. "Well, you would know better than me, Erik. I'll take your word for it,"

Their conversation continued on for several blocks, but then the car pulled into the front square of the building. Erik stepped out and took Christine's hand to assist her out of the car. He knew that, despite wearing the coat, Christine was wearing far too little underneath; he guided her quickly into the grand entrance of the building, up and out of the cold.

They entered the building and joined the crowd already assembled inside. Erik presented the tickets and handed over his coat, as Christine did beside him. Finally, there were able to relax a bit before the doors were opened to the eager audience.

"This is a wonderful turnout," Erik said to her, his bright eyes taking in the number of people flowing into the building.

Christine nodded, "Do you know anyone here?"

Erik shrugged and smiled warmly, "Several people I recognize, but I only have a few friends. Most of the people here are acquaintances,"

As if on a cue, an older couple started towards them. Erik looked up and smiled. The Shermans were a very friendly family, and also very generous. More out of obligation, Erik had no choice but to play to their eagerness.

"Gloria, David," he greeted, shaking the hand of the older man and kissing the cheek of his wife. "I'm so glad that you could come,"

David, a handsome man already well into his sixties, smiled at Erik. "Great to be out and about, son. I heard this production was giving you hell, but it seems you've pulled off quite a show,"

"Don't get ahead of me, now. The opera hasn't started- it could be terrible, for all I know."

Gloria shook her head and turned to Christine, "He says that, but this man is a visionary, you know. I once saw a production of his performed in Rome, and it brought tears to my eyes," she looked at Christine and then frowned, "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't think that I know you, dear."

"Oh! I'm sorry, that was rude of me, I'm just so used to coming alone," Erik started. "David and Gloria Sherman, this is Christine Daae, a personal friend of mine," he introduced.

Christine shook the friendly David's hand and nodded politely to Gloria. "It's nice to meet you,"

"Lovely to meet you too dear," Gloria said, her eyes narrowing on Erik as she looked at the pair of them. "You're a sweet girl,"

"And lovely too," David laughed, sending Erik a just-between-us-guys smile. "She's a great catch, you rascally dog! Adele will be out of her mind with jealousy,"

Erik grimaced slightly at the mention of his former mistress. He swallowed, embarrassed. "I don't think- I haven't seen Adele in months,"

"Well, you'll have your reunion tonight then, Erik. She's only just returned from Perth last week." Gloria informed him helpfully, her jeweled bracelet twinkling happily.

Erik furrowed his brow, wondering why Adele hadn't announced her return home to him.

The Shermans were called away by another couple, and Erik turned to Christine. "I'm sorry about that- David has a peculiar way of complimenting young ladies,"

Christine smiled and shook her head, "It's all right, I don't mind being your great catch for the night," she teased.

Erik felt his pulse begin to race, and he tightened his grip on her hand. "Tonight, and many other nights, I hope," he said softly.

Christine's lovely face took on a slight flush that he found both charming and more than a little erotic. Erik had a way of disarming her with his words and his ambiguous intentions. She was always left to guessing games with him. "Erik, can I ask you who Adele is?"

Erik stilled at the question; he could not simply tell her that Adele was a mistake from his past, but he also did not care to go into details. "Adele…she was once a part of my life, but that has since ended,"

Christine raised a brow. "Ex-wife?"

He smiled and laughed a little, relieved that Christine's candid sense of humor would help him through the night. "No, not her. We weren't so involved as all that. No, no, Adele and I were…"

"Exclusive lovers for a few magical months earlier this year?"

Both Erik and Christine turned to the sudden intrusion of a third voice. Erik blinked curiously. _Is this…Adele?_

The woman before them was a truly stunning vision in a gown of emerald green, the sleek silk of her dress hugged the curves of her body, the neckline plunged low enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, yet remained modest for the occasion. Her fiery hair was let loose to flow down her back.

Clear, clever eyes the color of jade gleamed at Erik, her gaze hungrily taking in the sight of her former man attired in a fine Italian tuxedo. Her lips curved in a smile. "How've you been, Erik?"

Startled at her confrontation, Erik blinked and tried to find his voice. "I've been…I've been all right. The production opens tonight, I'm hoping that it does well,"

Adele nodded and smiled, crinkling her eyes only slightly. "Well, if the opera is anything like your _other_ performances, I'm sure that this will be a night to remember," she said smoothly.

Christine stood off to the side, feeling a bit like an outsider as the two former-lovers reunited. Automatically, Christine picked up on Adele's double entendre, and she felt the cool hand of jealousy sweep over her. She was also forced to admit that she herself was excessively lacking when compared to this other woman.

Adele, while perhaps fifteen years older than Christine, was strikingly beautiful. Her face was lovely, the skin so white and smooth that she might resemble a perfect Venus. The woman's coloring was of such a bold nature that Christine suddenly saw herself as being plain- a common pigeon cannot compare to the splendor of a peacock in full bloom.

Erik felt heat on the back of his neck, but he chose to ignore Adele's loaded comment. "Thank you, Addie. Please, allow me to introduce you to Christine Daae," he replied smoothly, though Christine wished that he had forgotten to introduce her as he had with the Shermans.

Christine stepped forward, and held out her hand. "Hello, it's nice to meet you,"

Adele gave Christine's hand a firm shake, and she felt thankful that she did not see any animosity in the woman's cool jade gaze. "Pleasure, Adele Landry. So, have you two known each other long?"

"Just a few weeks," Erik said, taking Christine's hand in an unmistakable gesture of possession.

Adele's lips quirked slightly. "Well, Erik. It's good to know that you kept yourself busy while I was away. I must go, James is seeing about our seats,"

Adele quickly excused herself, the lady in jade swallowed into the crowd of black tuxedos and even blacker dresses. Erik turned to Christine to explain, "When we parted, it was not on the best of terms,"

She raised her brows at him again. "I can tell! Why'd you have to go and break her heart, Erik?"

His brow furrowed. "I never promised her anything." Glancing around, he realized that the auditorium was open and people were taking their seats. Erik put out his arm, "Please, it's time."

Christine looped her arm through Erik's, and they quickly found their places.

* * *

The opera, a chilling tale of the _Pygmalion_ legend, was truly superb. Christine could not have asked for more in the night's experience. When the final curtain had been drawn and the final bows taken, she was fighting back tears. 

For his part, Erik was only glad that everything had come together as it should have, and there were no major mishaps. His music and the vocalists had been in perfect unison, a perfect opera. Several times throughout the performances, he had stolen a glance at his companion, only to find Christine completely absorbed into the story; at one point, he had watched as she'd mouthed the lyrics to the main aria, _A Love Entrusted To Thee_.

_It is a success, then…_he thought to himself.

Erik led Christine out of the auditorium and into the main lobby once more. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.

She smiled at him, "Oh, yes, very much. Erik, it was unbelievable! I need to use the bathroom before be we go," she said as he began moving towards the doors leading out. "I was trying so hard not to cry because I didn't want to ruin my makeup," she explained.

Erik smiled, he could see the tears in her eyes. "You didn't ruin anything, you're as beautiful as ever,"

"Erik, stop it, you'll make me cry even harder," she teased as she glanced around in search of the restrooms. She also noticed that several of the audience members were gathering around. "Besides, I think I can leave you with your fans for a few minutes,"

He rolled his eyes slightly as he caught sight of the Shermans cutting a line straight for him. "Go, Christine, save yourself while you still can,"

Christine smiled and started down a hallway, heading toward the ladies room. She quickly stepped inside and moved toward the nearest sink. No tears had escaped her carefully made-up eyes, but it had been a great deal of effort to keep her emotions under control. The opera had been brilliant. So powerful and moving that she had been moved near to tears. She took several calming deep breaths and tried to settle herself.

Wasn't there something that she had once read? _Beauty is the greatest pain of all…?_

Yes, the pure and true beauty of Erik's work had pained her, twisting her inside and demanding her confessions with such power that she had nearly risen from her seat to shout out her lies and betrayals. She glanced down to see her hand shaking slightly, and she smiled a little at her own foolishness.

"You enjoy the show?"

Christine looked up in the mirror to see that Adele had just stepped inside. She tensed at the sight of the woman. "Yes, I did. It was, well, words can't really describe…it was brilliant,"

Adele nodded, "Yes, he's always taken his work very seriously. Works round the clock on his operas, of course, and then there are his other hobbies. The medical research, the city planning, his side businesses...It used to drive me mad, the only time we were ever able to see each other was usually sometime past midnight. I've been away for awhile, Christine. Tell me, is anything different?" Adele asked as she took the sink beside her and began to reapply her lipstick.

Feeling herself flush, Christine cleared her throat. "Oh, no. He's still the same old Erik,"

Adele nodded and sighed heavily. "I was afraid of that. I confess, I went to Australia to get away from Erik for awhile. The man is a closed book, I should have known better than to get involved with him from the beginning, but as usual I listened to my heart instead of my head."

Christine didn't know what to say.

"I came back because…well, I don't know why, exactly. I suppose that I'd just wanted to see if maybe there was something between us, and there is. There's you, Christine. I was with him for months, and never, not once did he ever look at me the way he was looking at you a few minutes ago." Adele's voice lowered to an earnest, almost threatening tone. "I want you to think about that the next time you're giving some other man a lap dance at Mama V's."

Adele turned and left the restroom, leaving a devastated Christine in her wake.

* * *

Erik stepped into his apartment with Christine in tow. His heart was fluttering deep within his chest, pulsing with anticipation and dread. It had been a wonderful night, Erik would not hesitate to claim it as being the best night of his year. 

Christine had been resistant at first, he'd seen the worry in her eyes when she's come to him at _21_. She had started to apologize, but Erik had warned her off. "Later," he'd said. The opera had come and gone, Christine had been moved by the performance. Once she'd returned to him after clearing the upset from her eyes, Erik had not wasted anymore time meeting with the eager opera fans.

The performance had been a success, there was not a man alive who could contest that truth. Erik had gathered Christine and guided her back to the chauffeured car that would take them back to his apartment. It would be their first time truly alone since the night that Christine had first collapsed against him, and then fled his home in the night.

Erik set his keys on the kitchen counter and reasoned that, for what was to follow, they would both need a cup of courage. He turned to find her looking out at the view from his wall of windows.

_Beautiful woman_.

"Would you like a drink, Christine?"

She turned to look at him, Erik could see the tension and fear in her eyes. She suddenly looked very young and very lost. "I'll just have whatever you're having,"

He nodded and then slipped into the kitchen to pour them both a cognac. Erik thought it was fitting for the occasion. Upon returning to the living room, he crossed to the fireplace and set flames to add more comfort to his home. Christine liked the fire, Erik wanted her to feel safe enough in this space to finally, truly talk to him.

She had not moved from the windows. Erik watched her for a few moments; she was shifting her weight from one foot to another. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Christine turned around to take her glass from him. "It's just the shoes, you don't know what pain is until you've spent all night in heels," she said with a teasing smile. Erik looked down at her feet, encased as they were in stilettos.

He reached to take her arm and gently led her over to the sofa, her usual place before the fire. Christine sat down and Erik knelt before her. She watched him with careful eyes as Erik removed her shoes. He took one stiletto, then the other, and set them both to the side. His hands cradled her feet. They were surprisingly strong, not the dainty paws that he'd once imagined.

Her physical form only proved what he'd read in her file to be true, these were a true dancer's feet.

Her toes had been painted in the manicure style, and Erik smiled to see that Christine had a tiny tattoo on the inside of her right ankle, a simple black star, no larger than a penny. He felt transfixed as he knelt before her, letting his fingers roam over her arches, her insteps, the delicate bones of her ankles.

"You have beautiful feet," he said softly.

Erik looked up to find Christine studying him with intense eyes. He was drawn to her, all else fell away. The warm hands cradling her feet began to move up as he rose to meet her. His fingertips feathered over her bare calves. Christine shivered slightly as she felt Erik's hands begin to trail up her legs, forcing heated blood to rise in a flush over her chest and neck.

Warm hands, so large, moved up her legs and cupped over her knees. Erik's face was very close to hers, his eyes moving from her lips to her eyes, pleading for her permission. Christine gave a tiny nod, all that Erik needed. His mouth descended upon her, his lips soft and seeking. His hands moved from her knees to cup her face; his kiss was tender and gentle, but steadily gaining confidence.

Christine felt numbed by the simple pleasure of his kiss, so enchanted that she could hardly protest once he took the kiss deeper. Erik held her, thrilled with masculine satisfaction as he heard the soft whimpers of longing escape her throat. She wanted him, as he wanted her. Christine's hands rose to his shoulders, and then moved inward toward his neck. Her fingers fumbled as she loosened his tie and slipped it from his collar.

The girl came alive in his arms, taking the pleasure that he'd bestowed, and returned it to him. Erik thrilled as he felt her nip at his lip- she did not fight him, there was no battle of wills here. It was Erik's preference that his women remained submissive when they kissed, he wanted them docile, all the better that he could be in control- it appealed to his pride to have a woman relent to him, and allow themselves to be pleasured by his hands, mouth and body.

Christine moved her hands to Erik's shirt, working the buttons and pushing the jacket down his arms. She moved her mouth over him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, nipping at his earlobe before moving down to his neck. There was heat between them, flaring too quickly.

Erik felt the scrape of her fingernails on his chest, and his eyes flew open. It was going too far, too fast. "Christine," he breathed, "Stop, stop, enough," he took her hands and pressed her back, just enough so that he would be able to stop himself when the temptation to take her would return to him.

He remained kneeling before her, and rested his hands on her thighs. Erik breathed deeply for several moments, attempting to regain his calm. Christine rested her hands over his. "Erik? What is it? Is it me?"

He shook his head and stood up, standing away from her and running a frustrated hand though his hair. "Yes. No. We can't do this…_I_ can't do this, not with the ways things are," he said, almost muttering to himself.

"Erik?"

Erik looked at her. "Christine. I want to ask you a question, but I don't want you to answer me until you know everything." He paused and took a deep breath. "Christine, I've done things that I am not proud of- I'm sorry. I didn't know, you told me, but you were so upset. I couldn't understand what you'd been trying to tell me until after Maddrox brought me the files."

Christine frowned and stood up from the sofa, she came to him but Erik gripped her wrists. "Erik, who's Maddrox-?"

He cupped her face and kissed her. When they parted, Erik breathed his confession. "Christine, when you left me, I hadn't been able to understand anything you'd told me that night, so I took things into my own hands to find the truth."

He watched as her eyes widened, and realization began to dawn.

Erik nodded. "You see Christine, I know. I know that after your father died, you mother remarried that…_thing_. Michael Downs." Erik growled the name, "I know what he did to you-"

Christine tore her hands from his grasp and took a step back. "You don't know anything, Erik!"

He would not be put off. "You're wrong, I know it all. You were a _real_ dancer once, months away from earning a full scholarship to Manhattan Ballet. I know that he broke your leg, destroying your future. I know that he-"

Christine felt the burning sting of salt tears in her eyes. She blinked and felt wetness course down her cheeks. "No," she whimpered.

Erik stepped closer to her and brushed the tears aside with the pad of his thumb. He held her so that she could not turn from him. They could not back down out of fear now. "I know that he raped you," Erik growled, the words poison on his tongue. "He…he was caught out afterwards, when-"

Her eyes were empty as she finished the story for him, sparing Erik from recounting the whole of her miserable life. "When I called the police. It was a week after he did it. They caught him, he's in a Miami federal prison now. There will be an appeal soon, they need me to testify. They caught him, but not before he almost beat my mother to death with a hammer. She's been in a coma for months. I came here to get better care for her, but her chief doctor told me that she's only slipping deeper."

Erik cradled her body against his. "Then why do this- torture yourself every night to pay the bills? She brought that man into your home, she didn't protect you from him." He said, feeling the oily rage of contempt slide over him. How could Christine go to such lengths for a woman who had sold her own daughter?

Christine pulled back slightly. "She's still my mother, Erik. She has no one, what would I be if I left her now?"

Erik leaned forward and brought his lips to hers, hungry for just the smallest hint of her affection. Christine did not pull away from him. He held her. "You are a better person than I, Christine. You're either very good, or very foolish."

They shared a soft, painful laugh at this.

"Maybe a little of both," she said, drawing comfort and relief from the man that held her. There were no more secrets between them, it was over now. She sobbed against him with relief. Erik knew everything now, but he was not turning her away.

_All the dread, all the misery, gone, gone..._

Erik embraced her, with all respect.

"You had a question for me, Erik?"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his strength. "Christine. There is something between us that has been troubling me for weeks, perhaps since the night that you first came to see me." Erik paused a moment and turned from her, struggling over how to best express himself to her.

He went on, "I know that when you first came here, May had convinced you that all I'd wanted was to use you for sex…to use you in such a way, I'm not like _them_, Christine, and I know that you still struggle to believe in me. I don't want sex, I want more than that. I want you, just you. Let me help you, let me take over your mother's hospital care. Be with me, I'll give you everything,"

Her eyes widened, "Erik-"

"I promise, you have nothing to fear of me. You have my word, I wouldn't…but I would have expectations: you would stop dancing immediately, of course, and come to be in my home, my life. I would have the guest room prepared. I would only require that you remain loyal to me without question, and grant me a fair chance to earn a place by your side, as the man in your life."

Christine stared at him, disbelieving and unsure.

He met her eyes and continued, "I don't want your rejection over the way I look, and I don't want your acceptance out of some sense of…of obligation, or pity. I can't take pity!"

Christine moved to him and brushed her lips against, pressing her body to his, perhaps for the last time.

"No, Erik,"


	12. Are You Mine?

Erik blinked twice, absorbing her refusal, and pulled away from her. "No? You mean-?"

Christine looked at him, her face so beautiful and tired. Her eyes held his, sorrowful but determined to make him understand. "No, Erik, I can't. I won't."

His eyes narrowed, not understanding, frustrated, quick to anger. "Why, Christine? Because I can't afford you?"

Christine closed her eyes, tensing as if she expected violence. Erik's voice was harsh as he stepped closer to her, taking her wrists in a firm grip. He held her, demanding answers, justification.

She pulled her wrists from his hands, only to have him take her by the shoulders, bracing her arms. "Erik, please, stop it," she pleaded in a small voice as she tried to pull away from him, raising her hands to his forearms. He was so much stronger than her. She didn't want to upset Erik further, but he was holding her firmly and would not let go.

"I'll stop when you answer me. I've done so much, I deserve to know why you've told me no!" He growled, advancing. Christine took a step back for every step he took toward her, until her back met the wall. His grip seemed to tighten, yet his voice and face had softened considerably.

"Why, Christine?" He asked softly. Erik released one of her arms and brought his hand to her cheek. Simply, he brushed her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. He watched as Christine shivered under his touch. When he spoke, his voice was husky with longing, coaxing. "You know we could be good together…"

Her lashes had fluttered under his touch, her body leaned into his. Erik's hand snaked down her side to bring her closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, his leg brushed high against her bare thigh.

Christine felt herself sinking, falling into him. He was holding her, his voice was warm against her ear. Erik's hands grazed over her, the first gentle touch she'd felt in years. It was easy, too easy to slip into his trap, to let herself believe that she could ever be his woman.

_I can't do this._

Her eyes opened to flare against his own, somehow finding the strength to resist him. "No, Erik,"

He glared at her, anger, frustration and passion gathered in his gaze. The hand that that caressed her cheek moved down, over her delicate throat, his fingertips brushed her collarbone. She read the intent in his eyes, but she could not stop him as he moved against her.

Erik's lips were hot and hard against hers, drowning Christine in her own exposed need. His tongue slipped past the seam of her lips, coaxing and caressing; he did not allow Christine to remain passive beneath him. He wanted her alive in his arms, he wanted her to feel him and know that he pleasured her; he wanted her in his life, in his bed.

She touched him, her hands splayed across his chest. She'd been hesitant at first, terribly unsure of herself. Erik heard her female whimpers, he understood that she had been through so much, more than any woman deserved. It wasn't fair. Even as he kissed her, touched her, Erik knew that her past was still powerful enough to keep her from future happiness with him.

Erik ended the kiss, but his face remained close to hers. She could feel his breath against her cheek, they were both panting. Her hands were still resting on his chest, as his were holding fast to the curve of her waist. Christine breathed against him, reeling from the kiss. She wanted to cry from the gentle passion with which he held her, and from the knowledge that it would never happen again.

"Be mine, Christine," Erik implored. His words shattered the silent calm, forcing her back to her senses.

As realization returned, Christine began to struggle against him, pulling away like a frightened animal. "No, Erik, let me go," she demanded, suddenly furious, ready to kick and scratch Erik if he tried to subdue her again. Christine tried to run towards the door, Erik reached out to catch her around the waist, but for once he was not quick enough when Christine's hand connected with his face.

It was a quick movement, too quick, and not even so powerful a strike against him. Still, Christine's wild hit was enough to dislodge his secret.

Erik watched as his mask, his perfection porcelain, shattered on the floor. He did not mourn the loss of the mask- he'd acquired a collection over the decades; there were several replacements on hand. But there was only one Christine in all the world.

Her eyes held his as she took in the sight of his bare face. She had not gasped, she had not recoiled from him even as he still held her arm. Her expression had stilled, and then softened. "My God, Erik, what happened to you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. _I've forced her to confront her past, now I must confront mine. We are both exposed and raw now, I will not let her shame me with her pity!_

Erik opened his eyes to see that Christine had moved a step closer, bringing them a step closer to being together. He sighed heavily, feeling very tired and very foolish. Erik looked at her, relieved to see only compassion in the azure of her gaze. She was not disgusted by him, she was not afraid.

Christine's lovely face compelled him to answer. Idly, Erik wondered if he would ever kiss those lips again. Erik didn't want to talk. The only words he wanted to hear were hers, agreeing to be his. Her hair was off her neck, elegantly twisted at her nape; he wanted to see her with her hair down. The dress she wore was backless, he'd felt her skin burning beneath his hands as he'd held her.

No. Talking was certainly the last thing he wanted to do, but he owed her the truth.

Erik took a breath to get himself back under control. "You once had a family that loved you, Christine. I was not so lucky."

He glanced down at the shattered pieces of his mask and scowled. The scars bunched and stretched when he did, only emphasizing the marred side of his face. Christine's mouth worked for a moment before she could speak. "Tell me what happened,"

He smiled at that, somehow finding humor in the situation. "I would, but wouldn't it be more exciting to have Maddrox bring down the police files? I still haven't thanked him properly for bringing me yours,"

Christine took a deep breath and tried, desperately, to come to terms with Erik's fully exposed face. It wasn't that he was so ugly, it was only that she had grown so accustomed to his mask that she had come to think of it as being a part of his real face. She had to understand now, as she glanced down at the porcelain littering the floor, that the scarred, half-destroyed face before her was the real man, naked and exposed.

She swallowed and forced her eyes to hold his. "It's not funny, just tell me, Erik. Please,"

He ticked his head to the side in irritation. "You want to know? Fine. It's only fair, after what I did." Erik moved to her then, and took her hand, pressing it to his face. He closed his eyes and paused, allowing her to absorb the feel of his skin, the warped texture of the scars.

Christine moved her fingertips over the side of his face. It seemed to her that there was one long slash down his face, starting from his hairline, going down his forehead, dividing his eyebrow, catching his cheek and traveling down to stop just over the pulse point in his neck.

The skin surrounding the central scar was pitted, stretched, mottled. At once, her touch changed. No longer assessing, her hand caressed him, cupping his cheek. Christine held him as he'd held her, and she brought her lips to his.

The kiss was soft, fleeting. "Tell me," she breathed. Erik took her in his arms, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. He breathed her scent.

He took a deep breath, and told her his story- his voice was curt, without emotion. Empty, as hers had been. Christine understood; some memories were too difficult to relive, often it was easier to rattle off quick, simple facts. "My mother. She was…unwell. Voices. Hallucinations. She cut me, and I have no doubt she would have killed me if I hadn't been able to fight her off. She didn't use a knife, it was a piece of rusted metal, I think. I tried to take care of her, but she was too far gone. She attacked me again once she realized that I'd called the police." He paused. "Maddrox was the officer on duty. He was there to help me during the time I spent in hospital, being treated for the tissue infections she'd caused."

Christine clung to him, he could feel her heaving against him slightly. Crying, but trying not to let on. Erik bent his head and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"You see, Christine? We are not so different, we were meant for each other," He released her from his arms and cupped her cheek, lifting her eyes to his. He smiled and kissed her. "There's no need to cry, smile for me."

Again, she pulled from him. "Oh, God, Erik. I'm not crying because I'm happy, I'm crying because nothing has changed. Don't you understand? If I'm with you, if I let you take over…God, Erik, I'd be just like _her_, depending on someone else to run my life. I'd rather die!"

* * *

Erik watched as his door swung shut behind Christine- she'd left him, just as all the others had left him. Wait, no. This was different. Adele, he had enjoyed his time with her, just as he had enjoyed his time with her predecessors Lara, Mary and Claire. He knew his own nature- he was kind and generous to his lovers, but he had never been able to feel a genuine love for them in return. 

Women were intuitive, they had known how he felt before he had. They knew that Erik could more or less go through the motions of love without burdening himself with real feelings. His past lovers had all deserved more from him, and so they had parted when he was not able to give it.

Erik had reasoned it was never that he was an unloving man; rather, he hadn't come to be with a woman whom he loved. Love just hadn't found him, as it were.

He knew then, with the click of the door, that it had found him in the form of that broken, untrusting young woman. Christine. Erik started off across the living room and threw open the door. She was not in the hallway, he moved to the elevator and jabbed impatient fingers at the buttons.

_I have to find her, what the hell was I thinking to just let her go?! I have to make her listen to me, understand that I- Oh, God, I do! I've let myself fall for that infuriating girl!_

Erik almost laughed out loud at his own stupidity as the elevator chamber rushed down the shaft towards the lobby. He burst from the doors once it landed at the ground floor, his eyes searching for any trace of her. Erik moved out of the building and swung his gaze up and down the length of the street but all that met his eyes was steel and concrete of the city.

No sign of the woman.

Throwing up his arms in frustration, Erik stepped back inside, happy to escape the chill. He looked over to the front desk where the security guard raised an eyebrow at him. "Is everything all right Mr. Latour?" The man was young, perhaps not even 30 yet, but he had been in the field on several overseas missions for the United States marines- working security for an upscale apartment building was a job he could do with his eyes closed.

It was only Erik's knowledge of Jerome's less than pristine past that put him at ease enough to go wandering about the lobby with his face completely bare. Jerome took in Erik's scars without missing a beat. He had seen worse.

Erik shook his head, "No, Jerome. Please, can you tell me, did you see Chris- Miss Daae leave? Do you know which way she went?"

The young man shook his head. "No sir, you've been the only one down here in the last 45 minutes."

Erik's mouth worked for a moment before he could respond. "You mean…? All right, if you just- if you see her, Christine, please, don't let her leave the building. Detain her and alert me, I have to speak with her."

Jerome nodded, "Yes sir."

Frantic, Erik returned to the elevator and ticked his hands as it ushered him back to his floor. He hated the feeling of helplessness that descended down upon him. He wanted Christine, but he had precious few options within his power. Offhand, he didn't know where she lived, but where was she if she hadn't even left the building yet?

In frustration, Erik stormed into his apartment but stopped short as he looked into the living room. Christine was there, by the fire.

All the other lights were out, again, the only illumination came from the flames. She was standing there in soft silhouette. Erik's eyes absorbed the sight before him, cementing his determination to have her. She was standing with her back to him, her arms crossed before her. The dress was backless, he watched the supple line of her spine, long and strong. A blank canvas of beautiful skin, pale gold in the light.

Her feet were caged once again in the unforgiving stilettos. Her long bare legs supported her, slightly parted, adding a hint of defiance to her stance. Her head was bent forward, giving more exposure to the nape of her neck. She had not heard him come in, or perhaps she had, but was afraid to speak for herself.

Erik understood her uncertainty- she both liked and desired him. Surely she must trust him by now, he had never harmed her. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't predict his reaction to her reappearance in his home.

Erik shut the door, alerting her to his return.

She turned to look at him, and he could see it in her eyes. "Erik," she whispered.

He moved across the room, and took her into his arms. Christine sighed in contentment as he held her, she took the folds of his shirt into her hands, holding fast. She breathed against him, safe and warm, just the way he'd always hoped to make her feel. Erik stroked her back, marveling at the feel of hot, golden skin beneath his hands.

_My Christine._

The woman pulled back from him slightly, to face him, offering her mouth to his like a sacrifice to the gods. Erik kissed her, pressing her lips with his. He kissed her lips, her cheek, the delicate place just beneath her ear. Christine moaned quietly, encouraging him. He lifted his head. "You're mine now, Christine. Say it, I have to hear you say it," he growled against her throat, kissing her there.

She moaned, "I…ah, Erik-"

His hands moved from her back, down to her waist. She shivered in his grasp, a little afraid of his touch, but very excited. "Say it," he commanded, becoming bolder, turning her in his arms so that her back was against him.

Christine's mind was falling away, drowning until all she knew was the touch of his sure, strong hands on her body. He leaned down to press his teeth into the place where her shoulder sloped up to become her neck, his hand splayed over her stomach- he could feel her quiver against him. Her shuddering intake was almost too much. His other hand skimmed over her breast, just enough to feel it tighten, but he did not linger there.

"Are you mine, Christine?" He asked.

His voice rumbled over and through her. Her eyes flew open and she twisted in his arms, turning to face him, to press her body flush against his. "Yes, I'm yours, Erik," she asserted. Her lips found his, demanding for a kiss.

He moved her to the couch, and brought her to rest over his lap, straddling his hips. Her long legs rested on either side of him, bare and beautiful. Erik's fingertips skimmed the flesh, eliciting whimpers and hitched breath from Christine. It had been such a difficult night for them both- their emotions were raw, all their secrets exposed.

Erik's hands stilled once his fingertips reached the hem of her short dress. No. He would not take her tonight. Not tonight, not after everything they'd forced each other to reveal. It would take time, he knew, and would be much more worth it for the fact. Christine held him, her hands over his shoulders, panting slightly as he nipped her throat, soothing the bites with his tongue.

He calmed himself, no easy task with the object of his desire straddling his lap, but he managed. Erik raised his hands to span her waist, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder- all the better that they both get a hold of themselves before rushing things back into his bedroom where…

Erik shook his head to free himself from the image of Christine in his bed, purring and writhing beneath him. He stroked her back and brought her face forward to his, where he kissed her soundly before lifting her from his lap. His body was tight with need, uncomfortably so; as much as he wanted her, he dared not touch her again for fear that he might take her then and there.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, through his hair. He looked at her, and smiled. Christine was disheveled, her face flushed and her lips swollen, kiss-bruised. He reached out and took her hand. She seemed unsure, even as he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. "Erik," she asked, "What happens now?"

He looked up, and pulled her to him. "Anything," he whispered, just as his lips descended down to hers.


	13. A Proud, Happy Mistress

A powerful trait of Erik's nature was that he was inherently generous to women. After being removed from his mother, he had had little more than the clothes on his back to call his own. He'd detested being poor, and his contempt for being without had been the driving force behind his monetary success.

It pleased him greatly to be able to present the women in his life with expensive jewels and the occasional fur, rather than a simple box of candy.

With Christine, Erik's past habits fell away. He'd given this girl more than any of his other women had received. Instead of some expensive bauble, Erik had offered her a place in his life, for as long as she wished to stay with him.

Erik hoped her to stay for years; if things went well between them, Erik could see himself asking for her hand…but it was far, far too soon to even consider such a step. There was so much that laid ahead for them.

He took a deep breath. He was in his room; Christine was still beside the fireplace where he'd left her. He went through his dresser and found a pair of sweats given to him by the students from Columbia. Much too big for Christine's svelte frame, but it would be better for her to sleep in them rather than the black dress.

The only alternative would be for her to sleep nude.

Erik's pulse quickened at the thought.

He left his room and returned to Christine. She'd been staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace, the fire gilded her face. She turned and smiled at him as he approached. "Here you are," he said, handing the clothes to her. "They'll be too big for you, but they are comfortable,"

Christine took the clothes and rose on her toes to kiss him. "Thank you, Erik,"

She was thanking him for other things than the clothes, of course, but Erik would not demean their situation by telling her "you're welcome". He wanted his generosity to be accepted with the unspoken understanding that, as the man in her life, he would provide her with whatever she needed so long as she remained loyal to him.

She went off to the bathroom to change her clothes, and Erik sat down on the sofa with a drink in hand to ponder what gift he should purchase for her, something to declare her as his woman to the world. He decided that a necklace would be the best thing, surely.

Christine returned a moment later, looking incredibly vulnerable and also very young standing there barefoot, her slim body practically swimming in his sweats. She'd washed her face free of cosmetic, and unclipped her hair. The lone mane of Nordic blonde fell down her back, neatly aligning with the deep curve of her waist.

Erik held out his arm and Christine moved into the space he'd created for her, nestling against his chest. He held her, and glanced down. The gaping neck of his sweatshirt allowed him a prime view, but he looked away.

_No. She is yours, but only once you take her will you be free to look at her. Wait until she's severed all ties with that club before you even _think_ to ogle her!_

Erik ticked his head slightly and decided that, yes, a necklace would be the best thing.

* * *

Christine was in the guest bedroom, her legs tucked up against her body, curled like an unborn child. She had been through so much in one night, they both had. She should be exhausted, certainly too tired to still be awake, and yet she was. Blue eyes roamed the dark room, too restless to sleep. 

She had not expected that Erik would have gone to such lengths to uncover her past or to reveal his own; she had never dreamed that he would ask her to surrender her misery and be with him. Christine had been speechless. How could a man like Erik, who knew everything and who could do so much, how could he have wanted _her?_

She hadn't believed him; she'd hated herself for so desperately wanting to go to him, to abandon her responsibilities and forget all about the mounting piles of medical bills and most of all, bury the humiliation of all her nights spent dancing on the stripper stage.

But Erik was a man- what men in her life had ever been worthy of trust?

His hurt eyes had haunted her as she'd fled from his arms and his home. She'd been halfway down to the lobby before she'd pressed the button to stop the elevator. Why shouldn't she believe Erik? He was a man, more of a man than any of the monsters she'd known.

Besides her real father and Raoul, Erik was the most wonderful man she had ever met. He was kind, cultured and he had such respect for her. Christine supposed that she had forgotten what it was to be treated as a woman rather than an exotic dancer, a sexual object.

But he'd never treated her that way, Erik had only ever extended his hand in kindness.

_Why shouldn't I stay with him, for however short our time together may be? He's so wonderful, and for whatever reason, he wants me. Me! God, for him I would be perfect, I could never give him anything less…I want him…Erik, I…_

Christine felt a tear escape her eye, and rubbed her cheek. For once, Christine did not cry from anger, or pain, or humiliation, but from happiness and another emotion that she didn't yet feel ready to name.

* * *

In the morning, Erik served coffee and was disappointed when Christine politely declined his offer to make breakfast. "Are you sure? I'm a master of the Spanish omelet," he'd coaxed. 

Christine was still attempting to recover from the shock of seeing him without a shirt for the first time. She sat at the small table in the dining room and watched as he maneuvered about the kitchen, setting the coffee machine and slicing oranges. He'd since put on a sweatshirt, much more worn than the one he'd provided for her. Perhaps he thought he'd made her uncomfortable.

He had, but not in the way that Erik had assumed.

Christine had woken early in the morning and had moved down the hallway, heading towards the kitchen for something to drink, when she'd seen him. Erik had been standing before his wall of windows, staring out at the city while it was still dark.

New York never slept, and neither, apparently, did Erik.

She must have made some sound as she'd been standing there, staring at the hard muscled planes of his back. He had a tattoo, but it had been too dark for her to know what it was. Christine hadn't meant to let her eyes absorb him so fully; it seemed almost rude to watch him so closely while he was unaware.

Erik had turned to look at her, his face unmasked in the dim light of his home. In turning, he'd presented his chest. Her eyes had widened slightly, and her lips had parted. Her primitive brain had the instant recognition of what Erik truly was under his masks and expensive, tailored suits.

_Man. Strong man_.

The planes and contours of his torso were powerfully defined, it seemed every inch of him had been carved from granite. As she'd let her eyes roam him, she hadn't been able to understand how his arms, so thick with raw muscle, had been able to hold her.

"Christine?"

He'd said her name, snapping her back to reality. Out of embarrassment, Christine had run back into the guest room. Thankfully, Erik hadn't mentioned anything about it as he set a steaming mug of coffee before her. He sat down across from her at the table and smiled, though Christine was confused as to why he was wearing another mask- his face didn't bother her at all.

"I thought we might move your things in sometime today," he said.

Christine raised her brows. "So soon?"

He reached over and took her hand into his. "Yes. I meant what I said last night; I want you with me as soon as possible. You do still want this, don't you?" he asked. Erik felt his pulse quicken slightly. She wouldn't change her mind now, would she? After everything that happened the night before?

Christine leapt at the chance, and quickly leaned over the table to brush his lips with her own. Erik liked that. She was very young, but unafraid to show him affection. He had worried that the differences in their ages would have been an obstacle when it came to intimacy, but Erik dismissed the idea now.

The only thing keeping them apart was the timing and Christine's memories of an abusive past- Erik would not pressure her, yet at the same time he would encourage and reassure her whenever he could.

"Yes, Erik, I do. You know I do," she asserted.

He smiled. "Good. No taxis today, I'll drive you myself,"

Erik rose from the table to retrieve a pair of shoes and his keys, leaving Christine to finish her breakfast and coffee. Her heart sped up- Erik had never been to her home, he didn't even know where she lived. Nervous heat rose to her cheeks as she looked around Erik's elegant loft, visually comparing it to her pathetic little hovel above the bakery in Chinatown.

Erik had a panoramic view of the city, while the only window at her place faced a brick wall of the building next door. Christine took a deep breath. _Well. He can understand why I have to live there…at least my place has always been clean, even if its pipes leak, the door sticks, and it's in the worst neighborhood this side of Queens…_

Christine sighed and finished her coffee, then she went into the guestroom to find her shoes and dress from the night before. If anyone thought she looked strange, wearing stilettos with an oversized pair of men's sweats, no one said anything as she dutifully followed Erik downstairs and through the lobby.

* * *

"T-that's your car?!" 

Erik turned to her and raised his visible eyebrow. He had started down the steps toward a sleek black Range Rover, trimmed with gleaming chrome. He opened the passenger side door to her. "One of them," he informed. "I don't drive often enough to merit a car, but this one I use for weekends, the other is when I need to make an impression on opening nights."

Christine hesitantly slid into the buttery leather seat. "What kind of car is it?"

Erik climbed in and swung into traffic. He glanced at her, smiling. "Let me keep my secrets until the time is right, eh, Christine? Now, where do you live?"

Timidly, Christine gave Erik directions and tried not to cringe as the passing scenery became more and more desolate and impoverished. Finally, her place came into view as Erik turned a corner. "It's, um, it's right here," she said uneasily.

Erik narrowed his eyes as he looked where she'd indicated and parked at the curb. "You live in a Chinese bakery?"

Christine shook her head and cleared her throat. "No. Just above it."

Erik followed her around the side of the bakery, her familiar path through the litter-strewn alley, and up an old, rickety staircase to her door. Erik glared at the door she was unlocking. The paint was chipped and faded, the whole area seemed dangerous.

He couldn't imagine a worse place for a young woman to be living on her own.

Christine unlocked the door, though Erik didn't see why she didn't just kick it in- if she had, he could tell that the old wood would snap right out of its frame. Erik followed her inside, and as he looked around he was a little relieved to see that the interior of her tiny home was at least, very clean and organized.

He stood in the doorway and watched as Christine quickly set to work, digging a suitcase out from under the tiny bed, and moving to the closet to stuff it full of her clothes. Erik didn't know what to do- there were so few things in the apartment, but so much of it was personal. He wouldn't feel right handling the framed family pictures that she had arranged on a nightstand.

This was Christine's space, he felt like an intruder.

Christine had thrown all of her clothes into the open suitcase, and then tossed a few pairs of shoes over her shoulder and hoped that they landed in the case. One of the shoes missed its mark, and bounced on the floor to land beside Erik's feet. He glanced down and his brow instantly furrowed, his eyes glaring.

It was one of the cheap, clear plastic high heels that she was forced to wear onstage. Erik kicked it aside and glanced into her suitcase to see that, among her everyday clothes, Christine had inadvertently grabbed a stage costume as well. The Naughty Nurse outfit mocked him from the clothes pile, taunting him with the knowledge of what Christine had been forced to do in the name of family.

Christine had been at the kitchen counter, transferring all her cash from the cookie jar into her purse- there was no way that she would leave nearly $3,000 behind. She planned to deposit it into her account as quickly as possible. She started once she felt Erik's large hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face him.

"Take only what you can't replace, and leave the rest," Erik said. His voice was low and determined, it was almost a demand of her. She read the intent in his eyes, and she nodded, making sure that the jar was empty before leaving it in the kitchen.

Erik had moved back towards the doorway, waiting for her. Christine saw the costume on the top of her other clothes, and she cringed. She had grabbed everything from her closet at once, she had never wanted to take any of the night dancer experience with her. She looked at Erik, and shivered at the look in his eyes. Christine took her photographs and stepped toward him.

"I'm ready."

* * *

The drive back to Erik's apartment was silent between them, but for the CD player, which steadily spun one of his opera recordings. Christine tapped her foot and bobbed her head in time to the music. Erik had issued one, and only one very quick phone call on his cell. The language had not been in English, but French. 

Christine knew several French words and phrases thanks to her years in ballet training, but she was not fluent, and could not follow the conversation. "Who was that?" she asked as Erik turned a corner.

He glanced over to her and smiled. "Just a friend,"

"Should I be jealous?" Christine asked teasingly, reaching for his hand.

Erik allowed her to lace their fingers. "No, when I said just a friend, I meant exactly that. Claudette is a woman I have known for years, but never intimately. She's more of a...friendly employee. I think that you will like her when you two meet later today,"

Christine raised her eyebrows. "Why are we meeting?"

Erik shrugged. "She might explain it better than I. Claudette has a very…elegant way of communicating with _le femmes."_

Christine smiled and enjoyed the rest of the ride back to what she had come to think of as her true home.

* * *

"Ah, Erik, she is _exquisite_, just as you said!" 

Christine had been startled upon entering the apartment to find a stranger inside, already waiting for them. She backpedaled on instinct and backed right into Erik's chest. He splayed his hands flat over her stomach, and then moved to cup her hips to steady her. Christine blushed furiously, and not only from the embarrassment.

Erik winked at her, and then made introductions to the chic women standing in the living room. "Christine, this is Claudette. Claudette, I think you said it best, this is exquisite Christine."

The two women shook hands and Christine looked at Erik for assistance. "Since I forced you to leave it all behind, Claudette will be taking you out today for new clothes. That is, unless you'd prefer to wear my sweats and your stilettos from now on. I have no complaints," Erik said teasingly.

Christine felt her cheeks grow even more heated. She was tempted to tell him that the stilettos, just like the dress, belonged to Tawny, but she kept quiet about that. "No, Erik, you really don't have to do that, I can't-"

"You can, and you will!" Claudette cut in. "You Americans have too much pride. In France, when a man offers his mistress the use of his funds to pamper herself, there are never complaints, now come. You have only the clothes on your back, a shopping trip would have occurred one way or another today and you know it!"

Christine felt that she'd somehow painted herself into a corner, there was no way she could win the argument. "I…I…all right, you win," she admitted, laughing at herself.

Erik only smiled and handed his keys to Claudette.

* * *

"I'm not, you know," Christine said once Claudette had taken the wheel of Erik's Range Rover. At first the girl had worried that this Frenchwoman would attempt to drive on the wrong side of the road, but thankfully Claudette seemed comfortable with American traffic. 

Claudette was a beautiful woman, perhaps only a few years older than Christine herself. She was dressed in a fine sleek Chanel pantsuit, her nails were neatly manicured, and her dark red hair was shaped into a neat bob that reached just below her ears. Everything about this woman screamed _**Fashion**_ and _**Elegance**_.

Sitting next to her, Christine felt ridiculous wearing Erik's sweats and a borrowed pair of heels.

"Not what?" Claudette asked.

"Erik's, um, his mistress or whatever…"

Claudette glanced at her and laughed. "Well, since you sound so convinced, explain this situation to me. You live with Erik, yes?"

She shrugged, "Well, it's only been a day so far, but yes, I do now,"

Claudette nodded. "And he expects you to be a hostess to him? He demanded your loyalty? Fidelity?"

Christine wondered if Claudette had been listening in on their conversation from the night before. "I…mm, yes," she said, slightly uncomfortable and knowing that she was losing another argument.

Claudette looked over at her during a red light and put a hand on Christine's knee. "Erik has not taken you yet, I can see this. But, as you remain in his home, as his woman, you _are_ his mistress. I will not lie to you. He has taken mistresses before, but never more than one at a time and none have shared his home. Not one. You should look at your place in his life with pride, as Erik does, and find your own happiness in being with him."

"But doesn't 'mistress' imply that-"

"That you lay with him for money? No! A whore beds a man for money- a mistress is a wife without rings. You are there for each other's pleasure and comfort. Never confuse the two. Don't let semantics stand in the way of your enjoyment of the man. You do enjoy him, do you not?" Claudette demanded.

Christine nodded. "Yes, he's wonderful to me,"

"Then be a proud mistress, and take the effort to enjoy his favors. Today, he has given me permission to build a winter's wardrobe for you. Clothing, jewelry, everything. We have the whole afternoon. Now, is there any store that you prefer above the rest?"

Christine fumbled for words- she knew that nothing found on the clearance racks of bargain stores would cut it with this cover girl escort of hers. She reflected on Claudette's words, and thought that it might be better to let this woman dress her. "I'm in your hands, Claudette," she said.

The woman turned to her. "I am glad to hear this. No fear, I have never led anyone wrong before, and I will not start a bad habit of doing so today."

* * *

Hours later, Christine had almost been physically ill when Claudette had read out the total figure of their afternoon together on the chic streets of New York. "What?! It can't possibly be that much! We've only bought a few things, and-" 

"And I had the rest delivered to Erik's loft," Claudette finished easily.

Christine stopped. "You did what?"

"What you have today is the tip of an iceberg," Claudette said, indicating the three little bags at Christine's feet. "While you were changing in the dressing room, I had all the rest delivered back to Erik."

The blonde shivered and felt her stomach turn over. So far, they had only bought Christine a shirt, a pair of jeans and a bra to wear for the day, leaving Erik's sweats in the backseat of the Range Rover. Claudette had forced her to try on every piece of clothing in every shop they'd visited- Christine was exhausted, but she'd had no idea that Claudette would have the nerve to buy everything behind Christine's back!

"I can't believe you! Erik is going to kill the both of us over this, oh my God, all that money on clothes?!" Christine put her head in her hands. She would have to pay Erik back, she would have to dance for the next twenty years to pay back a fraction of the debt that Claudette had dragged onto her!

The Frenchwoman barely batted an eye. "You are overreacting. Erik said to take care of you, and I have. When he sees you as beautiful he will not give the money another thought, and neither should you. Now, finish your coffee, we are not finished yet."

The coffee tasted bitter on her tongue as she took the last sip. Christine swallowed. "Claudette, I think we're done for today. I can't possibly spend any more of his money-"

"Damn it, Christine! Erik gave me express orders, and I have never disappointed him before. Now, we have only a few more stops to make. You can come with me or you can walk all the way back uptown, which will be murder on your feet with those shoes," Claudette teased, pointing to the stilettos that Christine was still wearing.

She was tempted to tell Claudette that her feet could take the pain, and more, since she had spent so many years _en pointe._

Instead, she nodded and followed Claudette as she led Christine to a chic salon. When Christine asked what she was going to do, Claudette turned her towards a mirror. "Your hair is ragged, and I can tell just by looking that you have tried to trim this mess by yourself. Nail scissors, am I right?"

Angrily, Christine nodded.

Claudette smirked. "Deep conditioning aromatherapy treatment, with a much-needed cut."

Christine whirled on her, "My hair doesn't smell bad!"

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't have a scent at all, and that's the problem. I feel that you have received no formal education at all in the ways of womanhood. A woman's hair should be scented, so should her skin. She must be luminous and sensual, a compliment to her man. Erik cannot tell you what he wants, and so I must. We have already begun today, but clothes do not make a woman. You are Erik's mistress, but you know nothing! I will have to teach you," Claudette said, her hands fluttering like upset butterflies.

Christine was becoming a little frustrated with Claudette's high-handedness in thinking that Christine was empty-headed just because she'd never been anyone's mistress before. It was irritating and reminded her of how Meg used to badger her in school when Christine avoided boys like the plague- her interest in dating had died the moment Michael had started touching her whenever they were alone.

The salon director called her name and Christine went, though she was so incensed that she barely registered what they did until the hairdresser twisted her chair around to face a mirror. She gasped.

Her hair shone with a health she hadn't seen in years! It had body, it had strength, her natural color seemed brighter than ever thanks to so much special treatment. She touched it, reveling in the softness. The excited hairdresser had happily lobbed off the dead inches of her hair, bringing Christine's mane to rest at mid-back, well below her shoulder blades.

In one afternoon, Christine had undergone a subtle transformation that had nothing to do with her hair, the new clothes or the makeup. It was internal; a new determination to make things work between Erik and herself. She wanted to be beautiful for him, but more than that, Christine wanted to be mistress to Erik, to make him as happy as he had made her.

When Claudette asserted that it was time to return back to the loft, Christine put up no fight.


	14. Homecoming

Erik had spent his day more or less alone, trying to concentrate on the blood samples in the Columbia laboratory and fruitlessly reviewing his latest business acquisition. He found he couldn't concentrate, as he knew would be the case. How could he concentrate while Claudette was out there, doing God knows what to his Christine?

Claudette, being a former model, was as up to date as a woman could be when it came to the latest trends in fashion. He wanted to provide Christine with everything she could want or need, and her immediate needs had been a wardrobe since he'd made her leave her old clothes- _her old life_- behind in that hovel of an apartment.

And as for Christine? Well. He knew nothing about her style as he'd assumed the cheap, threadbare clothes he'd always seen her in were more of a necessity than a preference. He had no idea what to expect when he saw her again, but he was excited. It would be their first night together, living as a couple. He'd been driven to distraction, thinking about her lips all day.

Such soft, lush, rose lips brushing against his…

Erik shook the vision of their embrace out of his mind. He could not push her into his bed- Christine, for all her strength, was still delicate. Erik knew that if he pushed her too far, too fast, she could snap. Better to take things as slow as he could; Erik did not mind, in fact he would relish the chance to build the trust and anticipation. There was no telling what adventures were in store for them.

He'd called Claudette periodically throughout the day, simply checking on their progress though he needn't have bothered. He had been the one to sign the post slip and receive the bags and packages sent to his loft from nearly every chic shop in the city. Erik didn't know why he should be surprised.

Claudette's fashionable instincts coupled with his money could be a dangerous mix.

That he'd handed Christine over as a doll to be dressed could only add to the appeal for Claudette's senses. Christine to her was a blank canvas, and Claudette was nothing if not an artist.

He had not peeked into the bags and packages as they were sent to his home; Erik had no interest in women's clothes, he instead felt happy to be surprised. Even the provocative _La_ _Perla_ labels had not been enough to tempt him to look inside- he'd much rather have Christine wear the dainty things for him, but again, he would not push her.

Erik did not mind, he had a few more surprises to present to Christine.

With that thought, his telephone rang. He checked the number and felt the corner of his mouth tilt up in a half-smile. "Have you got them?" he asked upon answering.

"Yes, sir. Just arrived," the voice answered. Erik was speaking to another one of his 'friendly employees'. Maron Jones was an up and coming on the international trading end of Erik's dealings. His specialty was in the European import business, hence the reason Erik had called for his assistance.

"And how are they?"

Maron laughed a bit at that. "Beautiful, fantastic finds, Erik. I'm coming up your block just now."

Erik nodded. "Good man. I'll alert the front desk to allow you to come up," Erik thought twice. "Or, rather, I'll meet you in the lobby and bring them up myself."

"Whatever works for you, I'll be waiting."

They severed the connection and Erik rose from his sofa, stifling a yawn. His eyes drifted to the windows where he could see the sky was swiftly shifting to dusk. Claudette would bring Christine home soon.

_Home, what a thought!_

He secured a mask over the scarred side of his face and took the elevator down to the lobby, hoping that Claudette would dally with Christine a little longer. It would ruin everything if they should both stride into the lobby and see the surprise before the time was right.

* * *

"Erik, over here!" 

Erik turned and moved towards Maron, who was just making his way towards the center of the lobby. The younger man had an unruly mop of sandy brown curls atop his head, a slight tan and laughing brown eyes. There had once been a time when Erik would have felt a surge of jealousy towards him, but Erik had Christine now; how could he feel jealous of any man when the only jewel of the city was with him?

True happiness was alien to him, but Erik found he enjoyed it immensely.

Maron came close, holding a large cardboard box. Erik raised his brow, "Is that it, then?"

The younger man nodded and set the box on one of the decorative central tables. "Yes, sir. Have a look,"

Maron lifted the lid and Erik looked inside. He turned to Maron, nodding quickly. "Right, everything seems to be in order. Have you got the other…?"

Maron nodded. "Of course, we both know my career was riding on this," he said with a laugh.

Erik smirked. "More that your career, my friend. Now, show it to me, please," he implored, very eager.

Maron smiled and slipped a long, narrow carved wooden case from his breast pocket. He handed it to Erik, who opened it promptly and smiled at the necklace inside.

"Now, this was not so easy to get a hold of. It's a wonderful piece, one of a kind, really. You have a wonderful eye to the details. If I may say…" Maron hesitated as Erik lifted the chain from its case and had a proper look at it.

"If you may say…what, exactly, Maron?" Erik replaced the necklace and turned to him.

The young man shifted slightly, smiling. "Your lady will be very pleased tonight, as I expect that you will be as well."

Erik reigned in the instinct to strike the boy down for such a remark. His private sex life was no one's business, though he supposed that Maron knew well enough of Erik's reputation. Where jewelry was involved, as was a woman.

"Thank you, Maron, that will be all," he clipped abruptly, slipping the case into his breast pocket and taking up the box from the table.

He did not spare the man another look as he stalked over towards the elevator bank.

* * *

Erik returned to his apartment and placed the box down on the floor in the kitchen. Christine and Claudette would be back soon, and he could not deny the eagerness that lit up within him at the thought. Christine was his now, right where she should be- safe and secure with him. 

May had once accused him of taking his shine to Christine simply because he knew that she was lost. She's said that Erik liked to play the hero, and that had been the only reason for his attraction.

Erik had to admit that part of what May had said was the truth. He did appreciate the masculine triumph of claiming Christine as his own in this way, by having her come into his home, under his protection. However, in their time together Erik had grown to enjoy Christine's company far too much to let her go. He enjoyed her insights and arguments.

She was certainly more intelligent than May or even he himself had given her credit for at first. Erik had quickly found that there was a surprise around every corner with Christine. He didn't know if he loved her, but Erik happily admitted that he felt more deeply for her than he had for any other woman. Love was an intangible, alien thing; he didn't know love, but he thought it might occur to him naturally if given enough time, and that he would know it when he felt it.

Meanwhile, Erik dialed his office secretary and left a message that she contact an interior decorator at her earliest convenience. The guest room as it was now was very bland. When he'd moved in, Erik hadn't had much use for the room, and so he'd tried to decorate it himself. It had been a half-finished project that he'd long since given up on when he'd met and began courting Adele; a beautiful, direct woman, she had been adamant to take over by ordering new sheets and window dressings, but their relationship had ended before she'd been able to put her special touch into effect.

No matter.

The guest room belonged to Christine now, and it was hers to decorate as she saw fit. He wondered about her style, the choices she would make now that she had such resources available to her. He would surrender control to her, but Erik prayed that allowing her this freedom would not result in hot pink wallpaper.

There was only so much a man could take, after all.

He sat back on the sofa after starting a fire. Glancing at the windows, he saw that snow was again beginning to fall in a blanket over the city. He smiled lightly and yawned. Stretching his arms overhead, his muscles were liquid, Erik felt almost catlike. Or, he preferred, leonine.

Much more fitting and proper.

He heard the doorknob and turned around, rising to meet his lady. Claudette stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was alone. Erik frowned, "Where is she?"

The trim redhead scoffed at him lightly. "Erik! You _would_ ask that question. Americans. No love for presentation, too eager for the payoff. Go wait in the kitchen."

"What? Why should I wai-"

Claudette started towards him and Erik smiled indulgently, allowing her to grip his arm and pull him towards the kitchen. "You will wait in the kitchen because there is only one chance to render you, the great Erik Latour, completely speechless! Now, you wait here and let me arrange her."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Arrange her? She's not a geranium, Clauddie."

She frowned at him. "You know I hate that ridiculous nickname,"

"Have I told you today how charming you look when you pout?"

She swatted his arm, "Stop that flirting, Erik. You are not a free man anymore, do you remember?"

He nodded. "Of course I remember. She means the world to me, now go on with you, and I'll not leave the kitchen until you give me the word."

Erik thought that this was all very stupid, truly childish, but for Claudette's sake, he would play into her game. All the better that he might be alone with Christine. Claudette nodded, and went off into the living room. He could hear frantic female whispering, along with the shuffle of feet.

He rolled his eyes. _Women and their games!_

Claudette called out to him, in French. "Erik, come out and see her. Give me a call tomorrow!"

He heard the door open and then quickly close. Finally, they were alone.

* * *

Erik hadn't known quite what to expect, but upon seeing Christine, he stopped short and allowed his eyes to drink in the sight before him. She was standing beside the sofa, staring at him with wide, deep eyes of indigo. Erik's lips parted but he made no sound. Christine mirrored his movement; the lush petals of her mouth parted slightly, but her voice was silent. She raised her chin, exposing more of the long line of her throat. 

With immense will, Erik broke his eyes from her gaze to take in the rest of her lean body. Gone were the worn-out, threadbare sweaters and faded jeans; Claudette had done her job very well, as he knew she would. Christine wore a blouse of what could only be silk the shade of deep forest jade. The shirt dipped low in the front to afford him a mere glimpse of her full breasts, and hugged her waist wonderfully. The jeans she wore, designer, Erik knew, were the darkest wash denim, sitting tastefully low on her hips and flaring slightly at the ankles.

She was still wearing the borrowed stilettos.

Christine moved suddenly, bringing her hands together before her, wringing them nervously. She turned her face away. Erik stepped forward, and crossed the room. He did not pause until he'd come into her intimate space. Tentatively, he lifted his hand to rest over her shoulder, while the other moved to span across the small of her back. He brought her towards him, those last precious inches, until her body was against his.

His embrace was lingering and very strong. The scent of honey and vanilla blossom reached him; Erik lifted a lock of her hair and brought it closer to his nose. He inhaled deeply. _Pure._

Her hair was soft and slippery in his hand, vaguely reminding him of a strip of satin cloth. Erik drew back and cupped Christine's cheek, lifting her eyes to meet his. She smiled at him nervously and was nibbling on her bottom lip.

Erik kissed her softly, thrilled to feel her lips move to meet his. When they parted, the girl was positively glowing with embarrassed color in her cheeks. "Why so shy tonight, Christine? You look wonderful."

She laughed timidly. "I…I just, I'm not used to any of this."

Erik's brow furrowed. "Any of what?"

Christine shrugged and gestured with her hand. "This! The fancy apartment and the clothes and…and the _respect_, Erik. Claudette took me to all these places and the salesgirls were falling all over themselves just to help me find a pair of shoes, it's unreal!"

Erik clearly did not understand, but he held her tighter.

Christine took a deep breath and leaned her cheek over Erik's shoulder. She kissed the side of his nice. "You don't know what this has been like for me, like a dream come true! I feel like an overnight princess. One day I was nothing and today, here I am because of you,"

Erik kissed her cheek. "I'm glad that you're happy, and I do understand what it's like, to go from being ignored and punished for things beyond your control, to suddenly having people take notice and treat you as a man…or, woman," he added, off her look. Erik shook his head. "Leave the past behind, where it belongs, and don't bother yourself about it anymore. Look to the future, it will only get better,"

Christine smiled against his mouth as she moved in to kiss him. "Is that a promise?"

She felt something cold on her chest, so cold that gooseflesh erupted over her body. Erik laughed as she glanced down to the necklace he'd just secured over her throat. "It's a promise, sealed with a kiss," he said, and kissed her.

Erik released Christine and she went to a newly purchased mirror he'd had mounted on the wall beside his fireplace. He tried not to laugh as he heard her gasp once she saw the necklace. It was a stunning sapphire pendant on a thin silver chain. Christine brought a hand to her mouth as she admired it in the reflection.

"Oh, God, Erik…it's…"

He moved behind her and she watched him in the mirror. Bright, fire-gold eyes bore into hers through the glass. Transfixed, she watched as his fingertips grazed over her shoulders, coming together over her collarbones, the barest hint of a caress in his touch. One hand moved down, following the trail of the chain. He fingered the blue jewel that rested over her chest, and he smiled.

"Do you like it?"

"It's too much, Erik, I can't accept this-"

He shook his head. "You can, it is a gift to you. One of many. Please sit down, I have one more thing in store for tonight."

"Erik, you can't keep giving me things," Christine protested as she took a seat on the sofa, nearest to the heat of the fireplace.

The man shrugged. "And why not? You are with me, aren't you?"

She nodded, "Oh, yes, but that doesn't mean that you have to keep giving me things. I'm with you because I want to be," she asserted, touching his hand.

He covered her hand with his own, and smiled lightly. "Christine, let me spoil you just a little more, eh? Stay here, and let me fetch your last gifts for tonight."

Erik turned to go back into the kitchen, but what for Christine had no idea. She stared into the dancing flames for a moment before looking out the windows to see the snow flurries rush to cover the city. She used the time that Erik was gone to wonder, _how in the hell have I gotten so lucky?_

Here was Erik, a brilliant, wonderful man and for no reason that Christine could ever hope to understand, he wanted her. He'd sent her out to spend the day shopping and handed her a lush necklace the moment she stepped in the door, and now, another surprise! Christine had forgotten what it could be like, how addicting it was, to be spoiled.

It felt to her that no one had given her thoughts and feelings much notice since she had run from the only home she'd known since the death of her father. Raoul had been very good to her, but it had been Christine's shame that had driven her to run from him.

_No, don't think of all that now. Erik was right- leave the past behind…_

Still, she couldn't understand why Erik had gone to such lengths to prove himself. Was it his habit to be so generous to his women? Did he feel that he had to spoil her just to keep her with him? She touched the side of her own face, a smooth, perfect match to the opposite side, and she thought about Erik and the hidden, massive insecurity he must go through everyday.

Christine felt in that moment that she could very well hate Erik's mother as much as she hated her own. It was the negligence and madness of their mothers that had marked them for life, both physically and mentally.

She turned and jumped out of surprise from the quick movements on the floor. Two round puppies had just run into the room, sniffing at everything, and were heading straight towards her!

Christine's darker thoughts melted away immediately, and she moved from the sofa to kneel on the floor. Delighted baby-talk leapt from her throat, urging them to come closer.

The pups ran over, sniffing cautiously, before leaping into her lap. "Oh, Erik, they're adorable," Christine cried out happily. He stood over them, pleased to see Christine happy with these new additions to their home.

One pup was a pure, fluffy white, the female, and decidedly smaller than the other. The second pup had a mixed coat of dark brown and jet black fur, a male that was easily twice the size of the first. Both the pups were eager for more of Christine's attention as she stroked and cuddled them on the floor.

"Erik, they're so beautiful! What are their names?" She asked, laughing a little as the white pup licked her neck.

Erik came to kneel down on the floor beside her, and he held out a hand. Immediately, the darker pup came to greet him with a lick and a gentle nip of his pointed baby teeth to Erik's fingertips.

"They were only delivered today,"

Christine raised an eyebrow as the white pup squirmed in her lap. "Delivered?"

He nodded. "Yes, special European imports. They are not from the same litter, though their breeds are nearly one and the same. This fellow, here," Erik stroked the dark pup, "He is a King Shepherd, while she is a white German Shepherd. Wonderful dogs, these. I had one while I was growing up."

Christine smiled, laughing. "Why did you import them from Europe? Don't you think that's going a little far? If you wanted a dog you could've just gone to the city pound."

The man shrugged beside her and nodded. "I could do that. One of the charities I host does go towards the animal services department, but for us I wanted something a little more special. Besides, Maron was happy to get the assignment."

"Who's Maron?"

"A young man I work with, he's an importer of European goods. The dogs were no trouble, and they're already housebroken." He winked.

Christine threw back her head and laughed. "You do think of everything, don't you?"

"I try."

"Have you thought of names?"

The darker pup nipped at Erik's hands. "Well, you can name the white anything you please, but this little man has earned the name King."

"King? Even though he's a King Shepherd?"

Erik smiled. "I never said I was a poet. He will grow to be enormous. Trust me, King is the perfect name for the beast he'll become." He nodded towards the white pup that had finally settled down in her lap. "And your she-wolf?"

Christine glanced out the window at the flurries and then back down to her puppy. "How about Snow?"

"Snow and King. Very fitting, I think." Erik smiled and leaned over to kiss her.

Her lips brushed against his, blissfully full and soft.

* * *

Erik closed his eyes in pleasure as the scalding water pounded the muscles of his upper and lower back. Here it was, Saturday night and he was having a night in; he didn't mind, he was not and never had been one for constant, exhaustive city entertainment. For years after he'd made his fortunes and earned the respect so aptly deserved, Erik had enjoyed his status on his own.

He was no recluse- he did go out often enough, but on the whole he could usually be found reading, writing or working in the late night hours.

This was a lifestyle he'd maintained for years- expensive and high-profile despite his personal isolation. Women had come and gone over the years, many of whom he had enjoyed greatly and still kept in touch with, but none had struck him with a longing for permanence, for something _more_.

Christine, Erik adored her! Now that he had freed her from her desperate obligations and taken her into his home, he felt confident that they would soon enjoy each other fully.

At the moment, Christine was in her room, sorting out the mountains of shopping that Claudette had had sent to the apartment. She threw up her hands- how had they done so much damage in one afternoon?!

Erik hadn't said a word about it, only to mention to her that he'd placed her bags in the guest room. Christine had nearly choked when she'd seen the bags and packages littering the floor and completely hiding the bed.

He'd only laughed at her when she'd apologized and said she'd return everything in the morning. Even now, she still had trouble believing in his genuine generosity. She would have to learn to accustom herself in time.

Erik had left her and the puppies to sort out the boxes and bags, going off to take a shower and change his clothes. He figured that they would stay up for a while more, talking and kissing. Erik wouldn't mind a bit more than kissing, but he knew her situation and wouldn't dream of pushing her for more than she was willing to give.

He hated her past with a staggering degree of fury; the rage he'd felt upon reading her police files had been enough to make him both dizzy and nauseous. There was a hole in the wall behind the mirror he'd hung beside the fireplace, the result of an angry fist.

Erik would happily pull the plug on Christine's mother and let the pathetic wretch flatline into Hell, but then the girl would be so upset.

Erik couldn't understand why.

In the carefully detailed reports that Erik had been given, Christine's mother, Rebecca, had claimed Christine to be a liar in the days after the…incident. She stood by her man, the sickening Michael Downs. _Monster._ Yes, Rebecca had chosen the believe the word of a loathsome, abusive, rapist over the word of her only child.

And the reward for her loyalty?

To be beaten within an inch of her life! With fists and heavily booted feet, with a hammer, Rebecca had nearly been beaten to death, but it had been Christine that had found her, and called the medics.

Erik would not say that Christine had saved her life- what sort of life was it to spends months upon months in a coma?

Perhaps he was a cold bastard, but if it had been him, Erik might have happily sat back and watched as the woman's blood loss and brain trauma took its toll, and then made the move to call a morgue once it was too late for medics. Then again, Erik was inclined to protect Christine in any way he could and if it had been in his power, he never would have allowed anything to have ever happened to her in the first place.

He glanced down to find that his hands were clenched into powerful fists. He had killed Michael Downs in a number of ways already in his daydreams, but none were so sweet as the thought of simply punching the man until his face became nothing more than a smear of hot blood and bone.

Erik turned around and let the burning water blast over his face. It felt very good, and he tried not to think of revenge for Christine any more. All of that would come in time, for now he only wished to change into more casual clothing and curl before the fire with Christine in his arms. She did fit him rather well.

He turned the faucets, killing the hot water flow, and he stepped out of the shower. Taking a towel off the rack, Erik secured it around his waist and rubbed the water from his eyes.

Erik left the bathroom, intent to go into the closet for his robe, but he froze with only one foot over the threshold to his bedroom. Christine was lounging on his bed, naked, waiting for him.


	15. A Day Out

**Author's Note: I'd like to give a special thanks to magicfingerrs for sending me a sketch of Christine from my story, thanks lovely!**

* * *

Erik felt that his mind, with all of its better judgments, had abandoned him completely. He was no longer noble, he was only a hot-blooded male. He could not rationalize or even hope to form a sentence in his mind, much less speak.

The only thing that he could understand was what his eyes were taking in with greedy pleasure. A woman, Christine, was lying out on his bed, naked and obviously waiting for him to take her. Erik felt his eyes and mouth begin to water at the sight of her, just as his heart began to speed up and his body met a swift and powerful arousal.

Christine blinked at him, shifted slightly on the bed. She held out her hand to him, beckoning him to come closer. Erik could not resist, and somehow his feet carried him to the bed and into her arms. His lips found hers, tongues entwined, soft bites; his hands cradled her waist while one leg moved over hers to bring her closer. The towel was all that was between them.

Her lips moved from his mouth, to his scars, to his neck. Touching, tasting. Erik's eyes slipped closed in pleasure. He was drowning in Christine's scent of honeyed vanilla. He speared his fingers through her golden hair, smiling as he felt it catch and curl over his hands.

Beautiful, so painfully beautiful, and she was his!

Erik took in a breath as he felt her pert, naked breasts brush against his chest. Overcome, Erik rolled Christine onto her back so that he could have more of her; more of her lips and throat, her breasts and stomach, anything that he could kiss or touch. He laid a hand over her breast, softly cupping the flesh, enjoying its weight in his hand, the softness of her skin.

He wanted her; Erik kissed her again, long and lingering. She was beneath him now, pinned by the weight of his larger body. Christine moaned and whimpered, all female, her hands ran over his chest and back, cupping his face, running through his hair.

He took hold of her waist, bringing them into full contact with each other. She arched against him, causing Erik to groan. She could feel his arousal against her- it was frightening. Christine looked into his eyes, her voice was husky and very hesitant. She touched his face.

"Erik, please don't make it hurt," she whispered in a quiet plea.

Erik froze. Hurt her? _Hurt her?!_

He rolled away from her and threw an arm over his eyes. Good God, had he almost taken her, even after all he knew of her past and the promise that he'd made to himself?

He waited awhile, for his pulse to return to normal, for his breathing to even out. Finally, he turned back to look at her. Erik was thankful that she'd had the presence of mind to pull a sheet to cover herself. He swallowed before speaking. "Christine, I would never hurt you,"

She was visibly upset, "God, Erik, I'm such an idiot! I'm sorry, I never should have done this," she said, very near to tears.

Erik sat up beside her, and gestured to the hook on the wall on her side of the bed. "Christine…would you just hand me my robe, please?" he asked. "I can't talk to you like this," he said, meaning the towel still draped over his lap, barely concealing his arousal.

Christine wiped her eyes and nodded, reaching for the robe and handing it over to him. Erik nodded his thanks and took it from her, quickly ridding himself of the towel and slipping into the robe, belting it tightly. "I'm sorry Erik," she whispered, head in her hands.

Her voice was so quiet and so wretchedly unhappy. Erik turned and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He kissed her temple and began to whisper to her, "It's all right Christine," he soothed, stroking her hair and back. He kissed the crown of her head and then her forehead. "I'm not angry, please, calm down."

Erik released Christine and she moved back to look at him.

_This man, this wonderful man…_

His skin was burning hot against hers- he still wanted her, but his eyes held only deep concern; as if he were to blame, as if he should be the one seeking forgiveness.

"Erik, I just…you've given me so much, I thought this was what you wanted," she said.

It was the wrong thing to say, and Christine regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Erik was facing the window. The strange white light of New York snow dimly filled the room, highlighting the smooth contours of his face as well as the jagged scars that would mark him for life.

His brow furrowed and his bright eyes flashed at her. When he spoke, his voice suddenly sounded very tired and more than a bit hurt. "Christine…just go. We won't speak of this in the morning."

He then turned away from her, effectively killing any chance for her to amend what she'd said. Christine hurriedly slipped into her own robe and retreated back to the guestroom, where she should have stayed in the first place.

* * *

The puppies alerted to her reentrance, but only King moved towards her. Snow was curled in the doggy bed in the corner but must have felt left out, for she soon jumped up onto Christine's bed to join them. There she was, naked but for a robe loose over her shoulders, surrounded by bags and boxes of the most beautiful couture from all over New York, and two beautiful pups who were no comfort at all, crying for yet more damage that she'd caused to the man who'd given her so much.

Erik was gone when Christine finally found the courage to emerge from her room. She had put on one of the robes that Claudette had bought for her, and tried to ignore the number of zeroes on the price tag. Her guilt had mounted with every step she took around the empty apartment. Christine frowned and wondered how she could fix things between them.

In all honesty, she truly had thought that Erik would expect her to go to his bed after treating her to a shopping spree. Claudette had explained things.

When a man takes a mistress, but most especially if he allows the mistress to live under his roof, the man expects his woman to look her best and always make herself available to him. She is his date to any public appearance he might make, the hostess when his friends or business associates visit, and most importantly, she is his immediate lover.

As Erik had showered the night before, Christine had thought over Claudette's words of advice. She had wrung her hands on the couch, her stomach knotted in tension. It wasn't that she was afraid of Erik; in fact she felt safer with him than with anyone else. It wasn't that she thought Erik would hurt her, or…or be rough with her. It wasn't that she didn't want Erik. She cared about him very much. Erik was a strong, desirable man. Christine couldn't care less about his scars.

She wanted _him._

Her hesitation and fear had nothing at all to do with Erik himself, everything was on her. The night of Michael's attack was a hazy memory, nearly a year past. His physical abuse had been a constant since the moment her mother had allowed him to step in and replace her father as the head of their family. He'd often been surly and argumentative; he'd been a drunk from the beginning. It was only after he'd beaten all the fight out of her mother that he'd turned his aggression onto Christine.

It had started with hard pinches and stinging strikes with a belt, Christine had quickly learned how to avoid trouble in any way she could, but she'd never fully bowed down to him. She'd made a promise to herself never to become like her mother, so pathetic and weak that she'd let a man control every aspect of her life.

Over the years the aggression between Michael and Christine had escalated until the two of them had gotten into a furious argument. Rebecca had long since resigned herself to Michael's whims, but when his whimsical mind had turned to Christine, things had taken a turn for the worse.

She put a hand to her temple. _'I can't remember everything; only that we'd been screaming at each other upstairs…I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and a broken leg…the doctor assured me that I would dance again. Was lap dancing what he'd had in mind for me?'_

Christine touched her left leg; in shoving her down the stairs, Michael had accomplished what he'd been hoping for in that last miserable year with his wife and beautiful stepdaughter. With the broken leg, Christine's body was left incredibly vulnerable; with the concussion and pain medication, her mind had been too clouded to put up any resistance when he'd come into her room that night in Miami.

_'I don't remember what he did, but I remember what he took from me.'_

Perhaps not physically, but mentally, Christine still considered herself a virgin. What did she know of how to please a man? There had not been any boyfriends; there had been no one. All Christine knew was what she had seen in movies and read in women's magazines. The other dancers had been candid enough with the details of their men, from size and technique to dirty talk and the many forms of kinky sex. Men were bizarre creatures; it was frightening, really, the tales she'd heard.

Claudette had teased her throughout the day as she'd made Christine presentable for Erik.

_"Do not be fooled, Christine. There are the gentlemen and there are the animals. Erik is both, but not at the same time. The man is a tiger in the bed, you must be the same to please him."_

Christine stood, and had thought to offer herself up to Erik. She'd stripped down to nothing and made quick work of preparing her body for him. She'd lured him into bed with her but Erik had rejected her, rightfully so. How could she have said something so…_vile_ in its implication? Hadn't Erik made it clear to her that he'd not wanted her just for sex? That he wasn't paying her to be with him?

_'I can't have ruined everything with a few careless words. I was nervous, I didn't mean to say any of that! I have to find a way to talk to him and fix this...'_

The puppies shadowed her every step throughout the loft as Christine searched for the man. No luck, he was gone. Christine had his cell number, she could call him if she wanted, but what was there that she could say over the telephone that would ease the tension from the night before?

Nothing!

Nothing, so she shrugged to herself and decided to get ready for the day.

Christine went into the shower, lovingly washing her hair and soaping her body. She rubbed honey lotion into her skin on emerging from the stall, and made quick work of drying her hair, leaving it to flow down her back in a shining wave of gold. The pups were waiting in the hallway as she came out, wrapped in a towel. They whined and started jumping at her, following her back into the guestroom.

"Hey, hey, stop that," she scolded as King nipped at her ankles. "You can't herd me, you little nut. Cut it out," she laughed as she pushed him away. Snow continued to jump at her, the little dog's nails bit into Christine's thighs and she swatted at them both with the towel to keep them back. "Give me a minute, please! You can walk around outside naked, but I can't."

Because the dogs were starting to drive her crazy, Christine abandoned all the detailed care she was going to put into her wardrobe selection, and just took the dark indigo wash jeans from the night before, and one of the cream cashmere sweaters that Claudette had insisted on buying for her. As she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, Christine had to admit that the chic redhead had brilliant taste. Even the simple outfit she was wearing looked like it could have been torn from the latest issue of _Allure_ magazine.

She blew herself a kiss in the mirror and winked before finding the dogs' leashes and setting off for the park.

* * *

"I just don't understand how you can possibly complain about having a beautiful, naked 20-year-old throwing herself at you! My God, man, would you listen to yourself?! I swear, you'd be beaten to death if anyone else on this campus heard you say that," Derek groused as Erik paced up and down the length of his office.

The room was what could be expected of a middle-aged science scholar. His obsession with chemistry and medical research to the exclusion of all else had earned him the affectionate nickname "Mad Scientist" from the university staff. His office was a desk and lab table, both of which were covered by loose paperwork, journals full of half-finished equations, Bunsen burners and beakers of all different sizes.

A few UFO posters- gifts from students, he'd claimed- added color to the walls. He sat behind his desk, faintly amused and bewildered by the story Erik had just told him.

"You think this is funny?" Erik demanded in irritation. He didn't pause in his pacing, his stride only increased, a direct mirror to his agitation.

Derek rubbed his glasses and laughed. "It's a little funny, yes. Here you are, more money than God, with a trail of women after you and the moment that it's one of _them_ making a move, you run in here terrified out of your mind,"

Erik shook his head, "It's not…listen, you just don't understand-"

"You're damn right I don't understand! Hell, if a 20-year-old decided to jump into my bed, naked, you really think I'd be at work today? If anything I'd probably be in the hospital from a heart attack after being up all night screwing the girl's brains out!" Derek laughed.

He laughed alone, for Erik had just taken on a dark glare. "Don't talk about her like that,"

Derek took a deep breath and became serious, "All right Erik, I didn't mean your girl specifically. Relax. Take a seat and please explain to me why, oh why, would you refuse a naked woman?"

Erik sat down and ran a hand through his hair, "It just wasn't what I'd wanted. She didn't want _me_, she only wanted to _repay_ me."

Derek leaned forward, "Repay you? Ah, Jesus, Erik, she was a hooker?"

"No, my mistress- my _last_ mistress, if all goes well. She's wonderful, I only want her." Erik muttered, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"I'm sorry, did you say 'mistress'?"

Erik glared tiredly. "It's what the wealthy call their girlfriends," he said in irritation. "Luckily, you'll never have cause to use either word because you are neither wealthy nor attractive to women,"

Derek laughed, "Have I told you how much I enjoy your visits? You come in here telling me there's a naked 20-year-old that practically jumped you last night, and yet you refused for…sorry, what was the reason again?"

"God, why do I tell you anything?!" He demanded, throwing up his hands.

Derek shot him a look, "Where else would you go, Erik? Who else do you have to talk to?"

Erik laughed a little. "When you're right, you're right."

"Just explain, and feel free to go into all kinds of details- start where you walked in on her naked," Derek said seriously.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Look- the long and short of it is this: Christine, the girl, tried to have sex with me last night because she felt that she owed me money."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Money. Right, and where did money get into this?"

Erik sighed, "Money has been at the root of this. I let Claudette- an assistant, of sorts- take Christine out to go shopping for some clothes and whatever all else. She basically thought to sleep with me in a way to clear her debt." He said, relieved to have it all out. "I wasn't keeping a tab, none of it mattered to me. I just wanted her to feel special, and warm."

"Warm?"

"She was very poor before- you wouldn't believe where she's been living, a room-for-rent in Chinatown. Her clothes were all so worn out, and I only wanted her to have some nice things. The details don't matter. I want things to work- I want a companion like everyone else." Erik said tiredly.

Derek shrugged. "Well, Erik. You're not helping anything by telling me all your troubles. Here's an idea, just tell her you want a fresh start- erase what happened last night, and start over again. You can skip the awkwardness of the start of a relationship, and fast forward to all the good things that come with living with a woman." Derek said with a faint air of wonderment, as if the idea that had just occurred was a stroke of pure genius.

"And the sex?"

"Don't talk about it- I'm no Don Juan lover myself, Erik, but even I can tell you that seduction rarely begins with words. It's your actions that count."

* * *

Christine watched as Snow and King wandered in erratic patterns, their noses buried in the icy grass at their feet. Occasionally they would lift their heads just long enough to take a look around, but then it would be back to the ground. Christine wondered what on earth could be so interesting to them that they had to smell everything.

The pups were small, but when leashed together they had managed to drag Christine all over Central Park. She was tired and had finally let them off the leashes to play in the fenced dog field so that she could catch her breath.

She tried not to think about Erik- it wouldn't do to worry over him the whole day; she planned on talking to him and explaining herself whenever she next saw him. _'This is too new, I can't ruin us_ _before we've even started.'_

The pups were now sniffing and being sniffed by other dogs that joined them in the field. There was a brown Pomeranian, a few Labrador Retrievers and an enormous English mastiff. The mastiff was easily twice Christine's weight, and he worried her a little; by the looks of things, the dog could kill both her pups just by rolling over on them!

King and Snow were behaving as the pups they were- curious, playful, and slightly annoying to the older dogs. Snow, in trying to get a playmate, had already earned a nip to the ear for bothering a Dalmatian, while King appeared to be posturing himself against a fully-grown Boxer.

Christine shook her head and tried not to laugh as the Boxer ignored King, even as he jumped on her and made a pest of himself. She let her eyes wander the dog park, watching with great appreciation the myriad of different size, color and breed. She'd always loved dogs, they were the most wonderful animals.

An elegant Harlequin Great Dane strode into the dog park, all confidence and mellow authority. Christine couldn't help but watch as the enormous creature checked in with the other dogs, sniffing respectably before turning his attention to the pups.

She gripped the leashes a little tighter as the dog walked straight up to Snow and pressed her onto her back. It was normal dog-to-dog behavior, Christine knew, but the Great Dane was big enough to eat both Snow and King if he wanted. She watched as the Dane sniffed at the prone Snow, but he was quickly distracted by King, who had just head-butted his leg and barked. The Dane turned and before Christine knew it, they were playing!

She smiled and laughed, thankful that all seemed to be going well.

The dogs played chase all over the field, even a few of the other breeds joined in.

"Admiring my Dane?"

Christine turned around, "Claudette!"

The French red looked as chic as ever in a casual pair of jeans topped with a blouse and tan pea coat. A clever newsboy capped her shag and her eyes were very bright. "The one and only," she groused.

Christine fumbled for the right words. "I didn't see you, I- that's your dog out there?"

Claudette nodded, "The Harlequin Dane, yes. Frankie."

"He's beautiful, but…somehow I didn't picture you as a Great Dane type of girl," she said.

Claudette raised an insolent eyebrow. "They were all out of poodles," she said dryly. "Besides, it never hurts to have a guard dog in this city. He's the best male that's ever been in my bed," she finished with a laugh.

Christine laughed too.

"Speaking of which, has Erik been in yours?"

Christine blushed, "Um…not exactly, things didn't really pan out that well. Look, he's coming home tonight and we're going to talk it all out,"

Claudette rolled her eyes. "You are so young, you have so much to learn. Erik is your first, isn't he?"

"My first what?" Christine asked quickly, suddenly tense.

"Well, your first man of course! Lasik can do wonders but I don't need the surgery to see that you are _une vierge_. No shame, Christine. Erik is a good man. It is because of him that I…nevermind. I only mean to say that he will take care of you, in all the ways that matter." Claudette nodded. "Now, come. Coffee. American swill, but even I admit to liking the mocha."

Christine nodded happily, glad to have found a friend and hopeful to get more advice on men. Claudette whistled and Christine admired the way Frankie obediently ran to her side. The pups followed the big Dane and Christine leashed them.

Claudette petted the pups and nodded approvingly. "Gifts from Erik?"

Christine nodded, proud of the wonderful changes in her life. "Yes, he gave them to me last night. They're both of ours. The white one is Snow, and the dark one is named King."

"Wonderful dogs! You must reward Erik,"

Christine swallowed, "Um, yes, about that…I was wondering if you could give me some advice?"

Claudette smiled. "I'm all ears."


	16. Playful Challenges

Christine led the puppies back into the loft feeling a strange mix of excitement and terror at the thought of seeing Erik again. Coffee with Claudette had gone well, and Christine had started to think of the woman as a friend, rather than one of Erik's errand girls. It seemed that Claudette was warming up to her as well, and this made Christine glad. She didn't want to be thought of as a project to be worked on- she wanted to make a real connection with the other woman and at the same time, learn all that she could about Erik.

"The man is very private- if he's gone so far as to invite you to live in his home, it shows he cares for you. Much more than any of his other women, and don't pull a jealous face! He detests infidelity in himself and others, you are the only one there is," Claudette gabbed in between sips of her mocha.

They'd found a Starbucks café with outdoor tables and had reclined comfortably in the sun as the dogs rested at their feet. Christine listened intently, still in a state of disbelief that a man so wonderful had chosen _her _to share his life with.

"I know Erik is wonderful…but, I think I've ruined things already, Claudette,"

The redhead paused, "What do you mean?"

Christine took a deep breath. "I, ah, approached him last night."

"Approached? Christine, I cannot help you if you do not explain yourself better,"

She shifted in her chair, uncomfortable under Claudette's intense scrutiny. "I got into Erik's bed, naked, and waited for him to come find me,"

Claudette smiled. "Ah, I see. He is masterful, yes? I haven't known him," she reassured quickly, off Christine's glare. "I've heard things. Wonderful things, from my sister. I introduced them, you see. Adele Landry is my half-sister."

Christine's eyes widened, "You- what, really? I had no idea!"

Claudette shrugged. "We share the same father, an American. He stayed with Adele and her mother here, while my mother chose to raise me in France. It was nothing torrid, our father is a wonderful man. He visited me at least five times a year, and had me stay the summers with Adele. He couldn't be happier that I live here now,"

Christine smiled, "Now that I think about it, I do see a resemblance," she said, taking in Claudette's delicate cheekbones, bright eyes and striking hair.

Claudette winked, "We are beautiful, no?"

"Very!"

"Erik thought so, but I promise you I was never with him. I am an employee, and thus I am untouchable to him. Adele was never able to keep secrets when we were together. Sisters talk, you know?" Claudette winked. "She told me things about Erik. What he likes, what he doesn't. He's very particular, was he angry when he found you in his bed?"

Christine felt a little uneasy talking about Erik. "Um…this stays between us, doesn't it?"

Claudette nodded. "Of course, Christine. This is between women only. Erik is not a woman, he will hear none of it."

Christine took a deep breath. "Okay, thank you. He wasn't angry with me, we started kissing, but I said the wrong thing and he got upset. I went into the guestroom and he was gone by the time I woke up this morning."

"You must speak with him as soon as possible. Tension is not good, not when you've only just begun."

Christine ran a hand through her hair. "I know…how can I fix things? You don't understand. I've never been in a real relationship before, and I'm at a loss. I don't know how to handle this! Erik is experienced, and he expects things that I just don't know how to do."

Claudette rolled her eyes, "You're putting too much thought into this. He will know when the time is right, as will you. When the time comes, you will know what to do- it is only natural. I advise honesty; Erik abhors lies, among other things."

Christine felt determined to talk to Erik the moment she saw him; when they'd first met, she'd done everything in her power to expect the worst of him, she'd resisted his kindness and tried to dismiss his every word. She knew him better now- even when she'd offered herself to him fully, he'd refused.

Perhaps he might not have refused if she had not implied her being there as a form of repayment, but Christine decided that it didn't matter. _'Today is a fresh start, I have to find a way to make things better!'_

Christine unleashed the pups and let them wander the apartment. Their scent-hungry noses lead them off in different directions and she was glad to see that they were being well-behaved and not chewing on anything other than their doggy toys.

She didn't know when Erik was going to be home, but it was well past lunch and it didn't look as if he'd come back while she was out with Claudette. Christine shrugged to herself and thought to have an ice-breaker ready and waiting when Erik came home.

_'Well, they say that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and God knows Erik's cooked for me plenty of times. But he's not the only one with skills in the kitchen…'_

* * *

Christine was alerted to his return by the pups' happy barking. Erik stepped through the front door and was greeted by King and Snow jumping up on his thighs. "Hey, hey, no jumping," he scolded lightly. The pups seemed to understand, and sat at his feet. Erik scratched them behind the ears, "There, much better,"

He stood and crossed to the kitchen, thrilling inside to find Christine setting the dining room table. She had changed her clothes from the jeans and sweater into a long skirt of white lace and a scarlet camisole. He also noticed she was barefoot and had painted her toenails a deep grape-soda purple.

He smiled as she turned to face him. "Hello, Christine."

Erik didn't seem upset or awkward at all; perhaps he'd reached the same conclusion to put what had happened the night before behind them, and to focus on moving forward. Christine felt relieved, and she walked over to him; Erik received her into his arms, embracing her and enjoying the deep curve of her waist. His hands remained on her hips and he kissed her, long and deep.

They parted, and Erik rubbed his exposed cheek against hers before drawing back. He reached into his breast pocket and removed an exotic tropical flower; its long petals were a burst of orange and red, beautiful!

She smiled, "Erik, it's so pretty!"

He gave the flower to her. "For a fresh start, Christine."

His meaning was clear, and she nodded her understanding. "I, um, I made dinner," she said, slightly nervous. What if he didn't like her cooking?

He paused, "Really? I've never had a woman cook for me,"

She smiled, "That's great! I want to be the first. I hope you like it, it's filet mignon and pasta with grilled vegetables in butter sauce,"

"It smells wonderful. I'm going to change, I'll be right back," Erik nodded to her before excusing himself.

Christine put his flower into a thin tube vase and set it in the center of the table. _'A fresh start, he read my mind! I don't even care about dinner, I just want to talk with him, I care about him so much…'_

She finished setting the table and selected a CD for background music, then, she sat down to wait for Erik to join her. The wait was not long, just as the first song was entering into its second movement, Erik reentered the dining room and Christine was pleased to see him in a more casual sweater of forest green. She wondered if he ever grew tired with wearing suits so often.

He sat down across from her, "Christine this looks wonderful," he breathed.

"Wine?"

Erik handed her his glass, "Yes, please." He liked that she poured for him- he was not a chauvinist, but it felt wonderful to have a woman cook him a meal. It all felt so natural, so domestic, it pleased him very much.

He took a sip of the red, "Excellent choice, love, truly, the whole meal is wonderful."

Christine looked up at him and smiled, "It's nothing compared to your cooking," she said modestly, "I think I have a lot to learn from you,"

Erik nodded to the side, he knew what she was hinting at. "I understand," he reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in reassurance. "Tell me what you did today,"

Christine took a bite and swallowed quickly, "Oh, I took the dogs on a walk and we went to a dog field in Central Park. I ran into Claudette,"

Erik raised his exposed brow, "And Frankie, I presume,"

She nodded happily, "Yes, that dog is huge,"

"I know. I bought him for her a few years ago as a welcome gift when she moved to the States,"

Christine raised her eyebrows and winked, "That's quite a gift, Erik."

"Yes, well, Claudette is quite a woman…I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Erik said quickly, catching himself. "I promise you, she's just a friend and employee, and always has been."

She winked, "If you say so,"

"I do say so!" Erik laughed. "I don't cross certain lines,"

"All right, all right, I believe you. She told me the same thing today, forgive me the need to double-check. I just wanted to be sure,"

He nodded, "Be sure. I think we need to talk tonight," Erik said, making mention of what they both knew was coming.

"I know," she said quietly. "Can we eat first?"

"I was hoping you'd say that. I haven't eaten today and I'd hate to leave it," he said, almost teasingly.

Christine agreed, and took another bite.

* * *

Erik set the fire to go, and Christine took her usual place on the sofa. He moved to sit beside her, and took the woman into his arms, holding her against him comfortably. They were silent for several minutes, until they were breathing in time. Erik might have been content just to remain silent with her, but he knew they had to have words; if only for clarification, if nothing else.

He was not so brilliant with words when it came to women; he let his body do the talking more often than not. Some things were better left unspoken in his opinion, but women were different. They were emotional, verbal. Christine would need his words for reassurance, and he had already promised to give her everything of himself.

Words should not intimidate him.

Erik stroked her hair and enjoyed her scent- honeyed vanilla and a bit of citrus perfume. She smelled of summer. His hands moved down the curve of her back and around her waist. He hated to break the silence, but for the sake of their future it had to be done.

"Christine?"

She'd been resting against him, almost purring in the pleasure of his sure touch. "Mmm?"

"You know I care for you, very much. I'm sorry about the way I acted last night,"

Her eyes widened at his words, "No, Erik…I never should have said that, I can't blame you for what you did,"

"I don't want you to feel that you owe me anything of your body- I can't deny I want you, but not like that," he said as he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

Christine shivered under his touch and Erik tried not to react to the pleasure on her face. He felt a heat rise in his body that had nothing to do with the fire. "Erik," she breathed, "I want to be with you, too. I'm…I'm just scared,"

He paused a moment, but then continued to stroke her face. His other hand rose to trace the line of her throat, moving down to her collarbone and down again to skim over the tops of her breasts. "I understand. You have no need to be afraid, I will not hurt you. Never. I've never been a rough man. When the time comes, I won't make you regret it,"

Christine's eyes had slipped closed in pleasure, and Erik felt another surge of desire for her, coupled with possession.

_Christine._

She opened her eyes and stilled his hands; her expression held fire even as her voice was weak with the passion he'd awoken in her. "You're so confident? You think you're God's gift to women?" she smiled at him, challenging and teasing.

He laughed and kissed her, hard and hot, to return her challenge. He gently explored her mouth, biting her lips, his fingertips skimmed the sides of her body, causing her to shiver and gasp.

They parted and Erik laughed at her dazed expression and panting gasps. "God's gift to you, when the time comes. Until then, this must be enough to tide you over," Erik said, and kissed her again.

* * *

"Damn Erik," Christine muttered under her breath as she paced up and down the length of the guestroom. He'd gone off to his room an hour past, while she had retired to her own room. He'd kissed her deeply, teasing and tasting. He'd laughed at the desire he'd awoken in her and then denied her any sort of fulfillment. Erik had left her on the sofa, dazed with wanting.

_He thought it was so funny, didn't he? Oh, ha-ha-ha, he's such a…oh!'_

Christine had been up and pacing for near an hour, wearing one of the pretty night dresses from _La Perla,_ and feeling vengefel against Erik for his teasing. Erik had done an evil thing to her; she was now frustrated, too excited to sleep, and yet she still remained too afraid of his prowess to beg for more. More of his mouth, more of his hands.

_Damn that man!_

She clenched her fists and glared at the two pups, who were nestled together in the doggy bed, staring at her as she paced. "You think this is funny too, don't you?" She asked.

King barked at her, once, and Snow only wagged her tail. "He's laughing at me right now, I know it," Christine said, spearing her fingers through her hair. She would gladly tear out her locks to be free of the torturous memory of his touch.

She'd brought it onto herself; she'd challenged Erik and he'd only met her challenge, going over and beyond her expectations. The thought had come to her to march right into his room and kiss him as fiercely as he had kissed her, to awaken his senses and then leave him in desirous torture for the rest of the long snowy night.

'_Calm down- if Erik wants to play, then I'll play this game we've started. I've lost everything, it would be wonderful to win something for once!_'

Feeling rebellious, and in the mood for throwing all caution to the wind, Christine opened her bedroom door and strode out into the hallway to find Erik.

* * *

He was not asleep when she found him, but up and perfectly alert, typing something into his laptop. He was simply sitting in the center of his bed, his gaze intent on the screen. Christine stared at him for a moment, noting with relish that he was shirtless. The arms that he'd held her with looked very different bare than when covered by shirtsleeves.

She must have made a noise, or moved enough to catch his eyes, for he turned to find her standing in the doorway. The sight of her caught his breath; she stood perfectly still, the pastel chemise nightgown draped over her body, creating a silhouette by the light in the hallway. As a dancer, her legs were long, strong and very alluring; he could not stop his eyes.

The exposed length of thigh, the flare of her hips, the curve of waist, the swell of breast…

"Erik?"

His eyes immediately snapped up to meet hers; her expression was amused and almost triumphant. Erik didn't understand why she would look at him in such a way- he wanted her to leave, the urge to sling her over his shoulder and bring her to bed was coming on very strong.

He wanted her, _now._ Erik suddenly regretted their heated kisses from earlier in the night- she had not been the only one left frustratingly unfulfilled.

With effort, he cleared his throat. "Yes, Christine? Is anything the matter?"

She looked down and bit her lip. Erik felt his pulse quicken and was grateful for the laptop that was hiding the evident arousal from her pretty eyes. Christine looked back at him and quickly moved forward to sit beside him on the bed. Erik closed the screen and turned to face her, concerned and yet somehow he was happy to have her with him no matter the circumstances.

Her fragrant blonde hair spilled over his chest as she pressed him onto his back. Erik felt his breathing change, more shallow, coming quickly. Christine laid her cheek over his chest, her hand clutching at his bicep. She was silent.

"Christine?"

She was looking down, hiding her expression from him. "Can I sleep with you?" She asked.

Erik brought a hand to touch her hair; the pale gold locks fascinated him. "I thought we would wait,"

He felt her shift against him slightly, shaking her head. "No, I didn't mean that. If you want me to leave, then I'll go," she said, moving to rise away from him.

Erik shook his head, "You know I don't want you to go," He reached for her and caught her about the waist. "I want you to stay," his hands skimmed over the flare of her hips and then rose to cup her face. "In fact, I insist."

Christine smiled and let herself laugh as Erik kissed her and brought her down to him again.


	17. American Woman

Christine awoke first to notice two things: she was not in the guest room and she had not been sleeping alone. Somewhere in the night, she had shifted onto her side and curled her body into Erik's. He was still asleep on his back, and she'd been resting her head on his chest.

She lifted her hand to press against his body; she only wanted to feel him. The planes of his torso were hard muscle, dusted with hair as dark as that which covered his head. Christine shifted to sit up, careful not to wake him, and she touched Erik's hair. Black and thick, with a slight wave to it. She smiled, thinking how handsome he was, even with half of his face marred forever by his mother's crazed violence.

'_Not that that matters to me!'_ she thought. _'I like him the way he is.'_

She couldn't explain why, but she was compelled to explore Erik a bit while he was unaware. Christine wasn't under any delusion- Erik had told her himself that he'd seen her dancing in the club, she knew damn well that he'd seen her body, and now she had her chance to see his.

Christine lifted the covers just a little, to look at Erik's stomach. It rose and fell evenly with his breathing and did not have as much hair as was on his chest, thankfully. She smiled wickedly, wondering what he would do if he should wake up and catch her "inspecting" him. His lower half was covered by the lightweight cotton pants he had worn to bed; if she could just…

A large, quick hand captured her wrist just as her fingertips had moved the waistband over his left hipbone. "What do you think you're you doing?"

Startled, Christine whipped around to face him. His bright eyes were open, his expression was amused and teasing. She felt the heat of shame and embarrassment flood her face. "I was just-"

Erik smiled, "I know what you were doing," he said as he took the covers back from her, "But no free shows until we come together- you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?"

Apparently Christine didn't answer fast enough, for Erik grasped her wrists and pressed her down onto her back, allowing his body to rest half atop hers. She laughed as he tickled her waist and smiled as he lightly kissed her neck. His weight pressing her into the bed was arousing to her, and her flushed face only gained a deeper blush as he grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

Erik could feel the change in her breathing as playfulness was swiftly met with desire, and he moved to plant light kisses on her neck, her jaw, her cheek and finally, her lips; her full, soft, pink lips. He looked into her eyes and smiled as he began to stroke her golden hair.

It was strange to Erik to be in bed, half lying atop this beautiful young woman and not to have known her body.

He knew that the time would soon come, and the anticipation was enough to make his mouth water, but Erik could not be the one to take them there. It would have to be Christine. He understood her better than she might have thought. She had been…_violated_ by that thing her mother had married. Erik could hate Rebecca for what she had done, but the woman had been beaten into a coma and was slowly dying in a lonely hospital room- he only hoped that she would meet a quick end, all the better for Christine to move on with her life.

As for that bastard, Michael Downs had stolen more than just Christine's virginity; he'd taken Christine's ballet career, he'd taken her mother, he'd taken her hope for any happiness in the future.

That man had taken her; Christine had never made love to a man.

Erik was determined to earn the right to be her first, in all the ways that mattered.

He would deal with Downs later, what man wouldn't?

Christine moved against him slightly, testing what it felt like to be so close with a real man. This was miles away from the dirty groping in the back rooms at Mama V's. There were no strobe lights or private dances, no dollars being waved to entice her; no propositions, splashing alcohol or strict rules- "Keep your hands at your side, you can't touch me, security is watching."

_No._

Early morning sun was coming in through the windows, the room smelled of fine cologne, clean linen and man. It was safe here, warm and quiet. This was nothing that she had experienced before. Intimacy. Tenderness. Humor. Teasing.

Christine smiled and for a while they simply looked at each other, absorbing the face of their lover. She touched Erik's cheeks, both scarred and not. She traced his hairline as he laid his hand in the valley between her breasts. It was a bold gesture, and Christine felt her flesh tighten in response, but Erik did not touch her.

She felt shivering gooseflesh come over her body as his hand moved forward to delicately tap the V of her collarbone. The sheer gossamer of her nightgown had been chosen as a direct taunt to him, Erik knew. Somehow in the night before, they had begun a game of who could better tempt whom.

It was as fun as it was frustrating. Erik had rarely indulged his more playful mistresses' games in the past.

Christine was different from the rest; she was a mistress he'd felt compelled to protect, she was the first to have ever shared his home. He had not taken her, but her circumstances were different than any he'd ever encountered before.

If the game was still going, Erik was angry with himself for he was surely losing. Christine beneath him, writhing slightly, her body barely concealed in the flimsy lingerie…

_This is sure to lead to trouble!_

Erik kissed her again, and then rolled away, to lie on his back beside her. He stared up at the ceiling and smiled with a contented sigh, willing away the evident arousal of his body. He had self-control, but he didn't want to scare her.

"Where do we go from here, Christine?" Erik asked, his eyes still on the ceiling.

She raised a brow, "What do you mean?"

He turned to her. "I liked having you with me last night, but you don't have to sleep in here if you don't want to."

She laughed, "You're kicking me out already?"

Erik smiled, "I'm not kicking you anywhere, but if you want me to…"

Christine shrieked in laughter as Erik's bare feet met her hip and he began to push her towards the edge. "Agh! Oh, God, Erik, your feet are freezing!" She laughed. Christine held on to his ankles to keep herself from falling off the bed.

"I know, I should wear socks to bed the next time you sleep with me." Erik mused happily, though he did not stop the slow, inexorable pushing against her hip. Christine seemed to have a way of bringing out the silliness that he usually kept hidden behind his more serious personality. "Now maybe you'll think twice before giving me a challenge? You know now that I won't back down,"

Christine pushed back against him, though it was no use as he was much stronger. She smiled and lifted her chin in defiance. "Oh, yeah? Well, I never back down either!"

Erik laughed. "Well, then here's a challenge: _you_ make breakfast. I'd like crêpe Romanoff with cinnamon and powered sugar, a yogurt parfait, Charlotte Russe, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a cappuccino," he rattled off easily.

Christine's jaw dropped and she stilled, giving Erik the opportunity for one final push.

She landed on the floor, laughing. Erik moved to look over the edge of his bed, only to find her on her back and giggling hysterically. Christine reacted quickly, gripping Erik's forearms and pulling him down to the floor with her, catching him off guard. He landed just beside her and smiled.

"The floor? It's not so bad down here. Just a bit dusty, I'll vacuum later," he said nonchalantly.

Christine sat up and crawled over him. "I have to get started on breakfast," she said, throwing him a defiant look over her shoulder.

Erik stood up and went after her, "I wasn't serious about that breakfast, I usually just have coffee in the mornings,"

She shook her head, "Hey, I never back down from a challenge, _remember?"_

Erik nodded, and Christine went off to the kitchen.

* * *

For once, Erik did not have the proper ingredients for such a lavish meal, and so Christine had to concede her defeat for the morning. Erik only laughed and kissed her; he did not issue any other challenges.

The pups ate a breakfast of dog food, while their masters dined on scrambled eggs and coffee. Christine glanced down at them, "I should take them out for a walk,"

Erik nodded. "I'll go with you, but let me change first,"

Christine smiled, "I have to change too," she said, gesturing to the chemise nightgown she was still wearing.

Erik tilted his head to the side, drinking her in with his eyes as she rose from her chair and crossed the living room. The sunlight coming in from the wall of windows lit on the sheer white of her gown, rendering it practically transparent.

He swallowed at the sight, and tried to push the image from his mind.

_No, no, no, she is too much, that girl. She is cunning and innocence, temptress and purity, different sides of the same coin- my God, I love her!_

The realization hit Erik, but it by no means disturbed him. He only knew what he had always known all along: he had to protect, provide and care for Christine in any way he could.

She was his now, and nothing would change that.

* * *

"I have to go back to the strip club,"

Erik felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He felt dizzy for a moment and nearly dropped his creamed coffee. They had just stepped out to Central Park for the dogs, and she'd recommended that he try something a bit lighter than his usual.

He quickly shook off the shock of her words, and fixed her with a bold glare. Christine almost cringed at his expression- the bone white mask he wore only intimidated her further.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded.

Christine raised her hands and took a step back from him, "Erik, I don't mean to go back to dancing! I just meant to let management know that I was quitting. Plus, I have to give that dress back to Tawny. She'll be wanting her shoes back too."

He let out a breath of air, "Oh, thank God,"

She swatted his arm, "You think I'd ever want to go back to _that?_ Jesus, Erik, you can be really thick-headed sometimes!"

Erik shook his head, "I'm well aware of my faults, thank you very much, you just gave me a start."

"I didn't mean to," Christine soothed, and looped her arm through his. "I probably should have explained myself more fully. Anyway, I really do need to give her things back to her. Out of all the other, um, dancers there, Tawny's the only one with half a head on her shoulders."

Erik glanced at the pups as they played with the other breeds in the dog field for a moment, and then turned back to her. "I'm glad to hear that you aren't the only one in that place with a decent mind,"

She nudged his ribs, "Just decent?"

"I meant to say brilliant, of course,"

"Of course!"

Erik cleared his throat. "Yes, well. This hasn't been one of my best investments, but it's brought us together so I can't complain,"

Christine laced her fingers into the end tassels on her scarf, yet another of Claudette's thoughtful accessories. They had changed into jeans, sweaters, and boots for the outing. Erik had complimented her attire, and Christine wondered if she would ever get accustomed to always being, in her opinion, so elegantly attired.

Somehow, Claudette's expertise had elevated a simple pair of dark jeans and a plain pink sweater into an outfit that looked like it belonged on a catwalk runway. Christine simply wasn't used to wearing such beautiful things, let alone being complimented on them!

Christine took a moment and watched as Snow began taunting the Pomeranian she recognized from the other day, and the two of them began to chase each other, while King, as usual, was trying in vain to assert himself against a fully grown Doberman. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get involved with the strip club? I mean, it's none of my business or anything, but it just doesn't seem like something you'd be interested in,"

Erik shrugged beside her. "Well, it's not such a secret, really. I've done a bit of business with people over the years, always trying to diversify. A few years back, I was doing some business in New Orleans and was shown the city by one of those hired guides. I was introduced to May, who owned a few clubs already. She was in the market for a New York location,"

"And you helped her?"

He shook his head, "No, not then. We kept in touch for awhile- I only fed her real estate reports and gave hints for good locations to lease whenever she was ready. Her clubs in New Orleans were all destroyed in the hurricane, and she decided to move here for a new start and she took out a few business loans to open up the location here. I'm her sole investor, but now that I have you with me, there's no need for either one of us to set foot in the place ever again," Erik finished, bringing her into his arms.

Christine nodded and smiled against him as he held her. He couldn't possibly understand what it meant to her to know that he had given her a chance to escape that lifestyle. The relief, the freedom from the pressure of her mounting pile of bills, the calls from debt collectors and the demands of a lusting audience…

'_Erik, my champion, I love you!'_ she thought with a great sudden swell of happiness, and she stood on her toes to kiss him, right there in front of the whole of Central Park.

* * *

A few hours later, Christine had had Tawny's little black dress- the fourth in her famous collection- dry cleaned and her stilettos were polished to their classic chic sheen. She reentered the apartment with the key that Erik had given to her, and held up the dress on its hanger to show to Erik, who was lounging on the sofa with a favorite novel.

"Isn't this beautiful?" Christine asked. She'd been so nervous the night she'd worn it that Christine hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate the drape of the garment, the weave of the ebony silk.

Erik looked up, but he did not appear impressed. "I like you more than the dress. Which car would you like?"

Christine frowned, "Car?"

"When you drop off the dress. I can't have you walking or taking the subway, it's not safe. I should have had a hired car bring you to me before, while you worked there, but I never thought…well, what difference does it make now?" Erik seemed to be talking to himself for a moment, but he stood and reached into his pocket to withdraw two sets of keys. "For your last trip to that place, you should travel in style."

He set aside the keys to his Range Rover and handed her the second set.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Your other car?"

He nodded, "It's a more suitable vehicle for a woman, I think."

She smiled, "Why? Is it pink?"

Erik shook his head, and winked. "No. Think more Bond than Barbie. Have fun."

* * *

Christine could not have attracted more attention from the city than if the car she was driving had just won the NASCAR cup. Erik had meant what he'd said about Bond, for his second car was an awe-inspiring Aston Martin Vanquish S. Upon first seeing the beast, Christine's jaw had dropped and she'd been speechless.

The car was pure sex.

A V12 engine rumbled quietly beneath the hood; the car's body was sleek ebony with the barest touches of chrome. It was a work of art, truly a thing of beauty. Christine felt power charge through her, a feeling of invincibility surging throughout her body.

It had been so long since she'd had such genuine _fun!_

Christine smiled and cranked the stereo a few levels higher, just as her favorite song hit the airwaves. Lenny Kravitz rocked his rendition of American Woman, and Christine began to sing along, feeling strong and sexy behind the wheel of her man's fantastic car.

The Aston's wheels ate up the city streets, but the car was unhappy with the traffic, and all too soon Christine found herself talking to the car, just as her father ad done all those years ago back home in Colorado.

She reached out to touch the dashboard and cooed, "Hush, car. Don't worry, if Erik is nice, maybe he'll let me take you out for a real drive someday,"

Christine couldn't help but to laugh at herself for being so ridiculous as to talk to a car, but if she wasn't mistaken, the engine did seem quieter for the rest of the trip.

* * *

It was a strange thing to see the club through her new eyes.

Here Christine had endured constant humiliation and had felt her will reach its very limit. Here she had come begging for a job that would pay enough to keep her mother in good care, and she had earned every last dollar by exposing her body and making the men believe that, with her smiles and sensual expressions, that she not only enjoyed writhing across the stage for their viewing pleasure, but that she was aroused by it.

The sex industry is no different than any other business, be it corporate, music or artistic.

Everything was an illusion.

An illusion that Erik had broken.

Christine shook her head and took off her sunglasses. The bright afternoon sun shone at her from every direction, and she took a deep breath. "Enough is enough, just give Tawny the dress and then get the hell out of there," she muttered to herself as she killed the engine.

She ought to have known that nothing was meant to be so easy.

As Christine was crossing the parking lot, heading for the rear employee entrance, two men appeared before her, emerging from in between the other cars on either side of her.

"Christine Daae, we'd like to ask you a few questions,"

And so Christine's newly found happiness was ruined in the golden glint of a policeman's badge.


	18. A Rough Day

"Relax, Miss Daae. You're not under arrest,"

Christine looked up to detective Dave Casey, lead investigator. He had a stern face but also an understanding manner about him- his slate blue eyes didn't appear angry or even very suspicious of her. He also appeared stressed to her, and nowhere near in the mood for any games.

She only wished that she knew why they had taken her in.

The police station was actually very much like the ones she'd been taken to in all the states between Colorado and Florida, where her mother had brought her along to bail Michael out for one offense or another. Cluttered, cramped desks were arranged in neat lines across the floor, the constant ring of telephones was scattered as background noise throughout the droning murmur of people talking back and forth. The smell of stale coffee pervaded the entire building.

Christine hated it- the place only served to dredge up so many of her haunting memories. She half expected to see her mother and Michael walk out from behind the bail bond office door. She had been thankful when the two officers who had brought her in led her to the interrogation room where investigator Casey had been waiting.

He had graciously provided her with a cold can of Dr. Pepper. The cola did nothing to steady her nerves, but then who could be calm after being taken off the street like a criminal?

Her cool eyes met his. "Then why am I here? I haven't done anything, or if I have, I'm sure I can-"

"Miss Daae, please. Calm down, you are not here because of anything you've done. Actually, you're here for what you haven't done."

Christine frowned, finding her fire. "Well, then please, detective, just tell me why I'm here."

The older man raised his brows, and his mouth quirked to almost suggest he wanted to smile at her moxy. Almost. "Well, since you asked so nicely, young lady, I'll cut to the chase." He sat down across from her and opened the manila folder he'd had tucked under his arm since she'd been brought in. Casey opened the folder and spread several photographs on the table before her, along with a group of mug shots and a few legal documents.

"That club where you work, Mama V's, is run but May Elise Valerious. As you can see here, she's had more than a few run-ins with the Louisiana PD. Most of her problems out there in the swamps went away after she treated the police chiefs of New Orleans to a little Mardi Gras action in the back rooms of her clubs."

Christine shrugged. "So what? One precinct is the same as any other. If you'd been on duty there, I'm sure you would have joined the party." She said boldly. It wasn't that she was afraid any longer, or upset with detective Casey himself, rather, it was what he represented. Christine had encountered more than her fair share of police officers throughout her years, usually in the middle of the night from calls of the neighbors citing a domestic disturbance.

Perhaps she still carried a bit of resentment that the police in the various states they'd lived in had not done her the favor of putting a bullet in Michael's chest.

Casey shrugged. "I'm not into dabbling with pole dancers, you never know what you might catch." His implication was obvious and Christine rolled her eyes.

"All right, so she provided some entertainment to the police in New Orleans, but again, so what? You're not trying to convince me that suddenly NYPD is cracking down on this kind of 'insider trading'?" Christine asked. She usually wasn't so bold, but as she was still unaware of why she was being held, she felt that this detective deserved a bit of her venom. "Why should anyone care?"

Casey dropped the easy banter attitude. "We care because ever since that club opened, your boss has been using it as a cover for narcotics trading!"

Christine stared at him, shocked by his words.

He leaned forward. "Not so cocky now, are you, blondie? Now you need to shut that smart mouth of yours and open up your ears, all right?"

Christine nodded, feeling the world crash down on her. _'Oh, God, they brought me in_ _because they think I'm a drug dealer!_' She felt her chest tighten unbearably and her stomach clench hard deep within her torso.

"Yes, sir," she said meekly.

Detective Casey nodded. "Right. Now, pay attention. Valerious receives regular shipments of cocaine, heroin, and anything else on her grocery list from her friends in New Orleans. They get it from their friends below the border. Now, most drug dealers keep it simple and have their friends do the drop off and the pick up- May does that, but it's only the drop off that sets her so far apart from any of the others that Narcotics has been watching this year. May has the strippers to the drop and provide a little entertainment on the house." Casey shrugged, "It's not full-scale prostitution, as far as we can prove, but Vantor has gained a lot of popularity in a wide range of clients."

Christine nodded dumbly as she looked at the pictures in front of her. May's mug shots from New Orleans intermingled with grainy black-and-white shots of some of the girls she recognized from the club; they were happily handing over envelopes and little packages to various groups of people of all different races, ages, and obvious economic standing.

Cinnamon and Crystal were in most of the photos.

She frowned, _'I can't believe this, its insane!'_

"See anyone you recognize?" Casey asked, watching her.

She nodded. "Yes, that's um, that's Cinnamon, this is Crystal, Candi, and Heaven." She pointed to each of the photos.

"You're cooperating already, I like that. Thank you. We believe that most of the girls are innocent, and under the impression that they're just doing the boss a favor. A select few, Chantelle Johnson, or Cinnamon, as you know her, she's in the know which is why you see her here going into the building with the men; she's there to provide a bit more bang for their buck." He informed her, a subtle tone of disgust entering into his voice.

Christine nodded. "I never knew her real name,"

"You will soon enough. You're not here because we think you're in on it. In fact, we know you're not- we've been watching May for months. You're point A to point B- you go to work and go straight home. Although, not lately," he said slyly. "We know about the arrangement made with Erik Latour."

A dead weight set on her chest. "He hasn't done anything, there's nothing to charge against him."

Casey nodded. "The only thing he's guilty of is being a bad judge of character, just look at the people he associates with." Again, his implication was aimed directly at her.

In Erik's defense, Christine spoke up, "Erik is a wonderful man, you don't know the half of it!"

"Oh, don't I? Well, all right, let's see what I _do_ know. Opera tickets, dinner at high-end restaurants, shopping sprees, exclusive spas and salons, jewelry, fancy dogs imported from Europe, and you arrived at the club today in a custom made Aston Martin. Is that right?"

Christine rubbed her arm and nodded.

The investigator smirked. "If there's more, I'd love to hear it."

She shook her head.

"No more? I'm disappointed, but for all the money Latour has spent so far, I'm sure he hasn't been. Now, I'm through talking about that arrogant prick. Damn near bit my head off today."

Christine frowned. "You talked to him?"

Casey nodded. "He's in the other interrogation room. He's the sole investor of May's club- it doesn't make him an accomplice, but we had to make him aware of the situation, and because the situation now involves you, we have to make things very plain."

Christine huffed, "So why don't you?"

"You can't quit the club. We're going to need you on the inside- we can't bring in a female officer because May's circle is too tight. She didn't get to where she is today by sharing all her secrets of success. But she knows you, and even though she won't give you anything because of Erik, you can be our eyes and tip us off."

Christine stared at him dumbly.

"You get it, Christine? All you have to do is go back to dancing until we're able to get enough evidence against Valerious for an arrest."

Her jaw tensed, "No, I won't do it!"

He took a slow, deep breath, "All right, before you go, let me paint a picture for you. The dealing operation goes on for a few more weeks, maybe a couple more months go by, but we'll catch her eventually, and tear her club apart. Latour, being the only investor, will be called in to court, and as his lady-friend and a former employee, you'll be right behind him. He's a well-known figure in the city, and this case will definitely get some press. If you cooperate, we can keep this quiet. If you don't, not only will every last detail of your lives be dragged out into the spotlight, but I'll also bring you up on obstruction."

The detective paused a moment to let everything he'd said sink in.

"Well, Christine, will you cooperate or not?"

* * *

The detective's ultimatum of cooperation or be charged with obstruction made for a long, tense day. Erik and Christine spent much of their time apart in the apartment. Upon their return, Christine had immediately retreated to the guestroom, and had been locked away with the dogs for several hours already. 

The drive back from the police station had been silent as well, for they'd both been trying too hard not to think of what lay ahead. For Christine, a return to daily humiliation and for Erik, the unspeakable frustration of being helpless to someone that he cared for so deeply.

It had been hours since they'd returned, and Christine had not spoken to him. Not a word. Erik paced the living room, his pain and anger so immense that he could only rage inwardly, turning the storm inward rather than unleash it upon the girl. Christine. She was the only innocent, and yet she'd been dealt so much!

_Abuse in the past, the responsibility of a mother's care, to be so degraded and exploited…_

_No._

Erik paused and took a long, deep breath. _No, Christine needs comfort, support. Things I don't know how to give…but, for her, I will do anything I can. _

He was upset and furious for his monumental failure. _Didn't I promise to protect her? What kind of man am I, to have let them drag her back onto the stage?! Men will see her, touch her…_

Erik clenched his hand and put his fist through the wall. He groaned as he stared at the damage he'd caused. _This loft suffers for my foolishness and anger,_ he thought as he rubbed his pained knuckles. _I must get a hold of myself. _He looked toward the door of the guestroom. He saw from the shadow moving on the floor that Christine was inside, pacing as she had been for the last hour.

Her door did not open to him. _I cannot frighten her in my anger- the girl is blameless. I must remember that. I can't make demands of her body, but the police certainly have! She is nothing but a tool to them, those bastards!_

Erik put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. It had already grown very late, and Christine had not left the guestroom to speak with him. He was disappointed, but he could not force the issue upon her. To her, he was a salvation of comfort. She would come to him when she was ready, he knew.

He paced, feeling terribly restless and even worse, useless. Erik felt too exhausted to cook, and he wasn't much in the mood to eat anyway. His mask looked up at him from the coffee table and Erik took it, turning it over and over in his hands as a nervous habit.

Christine needed him, but she would not come to him!

Erik wished only to protect her, but he was helpless!

_Helpless, am I?_

He paused and pondered a way to save her. Christine had done nothing to earn the trials she'd suffered. Erik frowned deeply, glaring at the closed guestroom door. _I will _not_ stand by and allow you to degrade yourself- you will _not_ exist as a pawn between the police and that lying bitch May. No more, Christine. You had no one before, but you have me now. I am yours, as you are mine. I will _not_ allow this- I will make plans of my own._

Thoughts flew through his mind, some captured, some discarded. An idea formed, the seeds of a plan. Erik stood and went into his own bedroom.

* * *

An hour later, Erik was lying on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The ideas came together in his mind to form a plan, but there were far too many holes. Christine was meant to go in to dance in the morning, to take up her regular day schedule for the week. There was no time to put his ploy into action before Christine would be expected to show up for work. The police would be watching; if she did not arrive, she could be held for obstruction of justice. 

He blinked, and realized that May had no idea of all that had happened between he and Christine in the space of just these past few days. Erik rubbed his forehead and put a hand through his hair- so much had happened!

_That dinner, the opera, what we revealed to each other, she coming to live in with me, me sending her out with Claudette…my God, it's been a whirlwind!_

Just thinking of it all exhausted him, and he punched the pillow beneath his head in frustration. _I can stop all of this, but not if Christine doesn't go in to dance. God, this is making me sick! To save Christine, I must make her suffer…was there ever a pair of more miserable wretches than us?!_

There was a click at his door, and he watched as Christine slipped into his room. It was dark, but he could see her in the moonlight coming in from the window. She was staring at him, her eyes silver in the dim white light. She was wearing a night set this time, a simple tank and shorts. He sat up to show he was awake, but he did not speak. Erik had no desire to say anything, he only wanted her with him.

No more silly challenges or games. The fun was over.

Erik patted the bed, inviting her to come to him.

The girl did not hesitate.

Christine moved forward, her long hair swinging about her face as she came to the bed. She climbed in and lay down on her side, her back facing toward him. Erik shifted to lay down beside her, molding so that their bodies fit together. He brought an arm around her waist, resting his hand first over the curve of her hip, then further down to her side and stomach.

She sighed and put her hand over his, lacing their fingers. After a time, she whispered to him, "I don't want to do this."

Erik moved her hair out of the way and kissed the nape of her neck. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I know you don't. I'll find a way to stop this, I promise you,"

"There's nothing you can do."

"You're _wrong_," he insisted, suddenly forceful. He took her shoulder and moved her onto her back, forcing her to look at him. Erik loomed over her. "I can and I _will_ stop this. For you, I'll find a way to end it." He declared. Christine put her hands to his face, one hand on each cheek.

She said nothing, she only kissed him.


	19. Diamond

The woman was gone once he awoke, and Erik couldn't say he was surprised. _'She's ashamed, and so am I. I couldn't protect her!'_

Erik rolled onto his back and put his hands over his face, groaning slightly in his unhappiness. He had much to do that day- phone calls to make, first and foremost. His opera would be showing for the rest of the week, but he would be needed back at the Metropolitan opera house soon to begin initial procedures on the next production. He had to speak with Maron about acquisitions from Italy, he also needed to check in with Derek at the university.

But most importantly, he had to find a way to get Christine out of harm's way. She had done nothing to earn this, to be trapped as a dancer. He wasn't a fool, Erik knew that the police had somehow roped her into acting as a civilian spy using some form of manipulation- perhaps not completely illegal, but most definitely immoral, and Erik knew the reason why.

Christine had no family, no real friends. If anything happened to her over the course of the narcotics investigation, she would be seen as collateral damage, but nothing for New York's finest to lose sleep over.

_'I won't let them do this- they see the big picture, they don't see Christine. I understand why, but she is not alone anymore. She is mine, as I am hers, and I will find a way to fix this...'_

"Erik, are you going to lie in bed all day?"

Startled, Erik sat up to find Christine in the doorway. Sleek and dressed, ready for the day, she was smirking at him. A steaming mug of coffee was in her hands and she moved to him, holding it out to him. "I thought you might need one of these,"

Erik took the mug from her and took a sip, raising his brows at the sweet cinnamon she'd added for him. "Thank you, it's wonderful."

Christine sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. She glanced away for a moment. "Erik, we have to walk the dogs, let's go to the park for a little while."

He nodded. "You don't, ah, when do you have to go in and start this fiasco?" he asked, irritated by the situation, not her.

She bit her lip, "Well, the club doesn't open until noon, so I have some time…and I want to spend it with you,"

Erik nodded. "Right. Give me ten minutes, I'll be ready."

* * *

The walk through the park was easy going, but very quiet. Erik couldn't find anything to say. It was as if a leaden rock of shame had formed in his stomach- he couldn't speak, it pained him to look at her beautiful face and know that in mere hours she would be dancing, writhing on a stage for a full room of lusting men… 

Christine glanced at Erik. He was scowling straight ahead, the glare of his unmarred face made a perfect match to the scowling contours of his mask. She'd long since given up on making conversation with him; he could see right through her. Christine couldn't pretend that everything was fine between them, he already knew her too well.

'_Well, at least the pups are happy,_' she thought glumly as the dogs happily walked ahead of them.

* * *

The next few hours were spent in separation- Christine returned to the guestroom and kept Snow with her, while Erik and King held their own before the fire. She shed a tear for what she was being forced to do, but Christine refused to let her thoughts linger. 

'_I'm so sick of crying and being weak!'_ She raged silently, pacing the length of the room. _'I've had enough, I'm sick and tired of being manipulated- I hate it!'_

Christine took a brush and ran it through her hair, roughly, and went through her purse in search of her makeup. It was still there, the dark, garish shades. She hated them, loathed them actually, but what could she do? Her only option was to go back to dancing, and find out whatever evidence was necessary to get May into the hands of the police.

Christine looked into the mirror, angry and determined to end it all as quickly as she could. '_Who knows, maybe something will happen and the police can catch her by the end of today!'_

It was a long shot, very unlikely, but the thought gave her hope that Erik's words would be true again, that she'd be safe with him.

* * *

"Hey, look at you! Sugar daddy's obviously been giving up the goods," Tawny greeted her as Christine slinked into the dressing room. A few of the other girls turned to look at her, but on the whole she wasn't very interesting. 

Only Tawny, with her keen eye for fashion, noticed the change in her wardrobe.

Tawny approached her with a playful eye. "Let me see now…se7en jeans, a Ralph Lauren coat over a Chanel blouse, and- oh my God, are those new Blahniks?!" She demanded, quickly kneeling to inspect Christine's shoes. "Holy shit, these aren't supposed to be out for another three months!"

Christine took a deep breath. Fashion was the last thing on her mind while she was trapped in this nightmare. Erik had barely spoken to her all morning and he'd left the loft before her, she hadn't even been able to say goodbye before she had to leave or risk being late to work.

She cleared her throat and began to undress. "I, um, yeah. He took me shopping, it was nice,"

Tawny took one of Christine's shoes and reverently examined it in her hands. "I'd say it was more than nice, you're wearing over $1,000 of designer labels!" She reached forward and lifted Christine's blouse, revealing her lace bra.

Christine shrank back, "Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

"Whoa! _La Perla?!_ Where'd you find this guy? God, you've got to show me where the great men are. Look at this attention to detail- I'd give my left arm for a guy with half as much appreciation for the clothes that make a woman!" Tawny said in admiration.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's what it's all about, right? The guys with the big paychecks…"

Tawny wiggled her brows, "Look who's finally come around! I guess the opera was a new experience, huh?"

Christine didn't want to think of that night; Erik was the last thing she wanted to think about. _'I can't think of him. His name…God! I have to get through this! Relax, it'll be just like any other day. Christine, you're going to have to pretend for just a little longer…'_

She took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the mixed scents of cigarette smoke, bar food, and perfume. It was a scent she knew well from her months of dancing, but it was hard to forget the breath of fresh air that Erik had given her.

She moved to sit at her place before the long running counter and put a hand to her temple as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Tawny put a hand on her shoulder, "Are you okay, Diamond?"

…_Diamond…_

Christine nodded and took another deep breath, clearing her mind and gathering her nerve, stifling her anger and disgust; there was only one way that she would be able to get through this, and she did want to get through with it, once and for all. Anything to keep Erik from the ruin that he would surely face if the situation were to be leaked to the tabloids. She cared for him too much to let him be hurt by this mess- he'd done nothing to deserve it.

_'How could I have refused the detective's offer? I can't let anything happen to-_

"Are you going to sit there all day staring at yourself or are you going to dance?"

Christine glanced up to see May standing in the reflected doorway. She had dyed her hair again, going lighter this time, so far blonde that her hair nearly matched Christine's. "I'm…I'm sorry, I'm almost ready,"

May lit a cigarette and rolled her eyes. "I see he's done his usual number on you. Don't you be getting' any ideas, Diamond. A new set of clothes and a haircut doesn't make you anything special to him. You're onstage in five minutes, put on your game face." She ordered as she turned and stepped out of the dressing room and ascended the stairs that led up to the management office.

Christine turned back to the mirror, and felt her thoughts take on a vicious turn. Diamond was stirring beneath the surface, waking up, angrily.

_'The police need hard evidence, real proof that May is behind everything. All right, I'll give them what they want, I'll do whatever it takes to deliver May's head on a silver platter!'_

Feeling fierce and determined, ready to dance in wild anger, ready to bring down the roof with her mayhem, Christine took out her makeup bag and made quick work of bringing Diamond back into the world.

She stared at herself; her eyes ringed in daring violet, her lashes heavy with mascara, and her lips slick with dark gloss. Christine twitched her mouth, searching for the perfect smirk, that flash of the eye and hint of attitude that helped to ease the transition.

The pulsing music could be heard from the main stage, a song that she's danced to for weeks. Christine hated that song, but Diamond loved it. The lyrics screamed through the speakers, the chorus following suit. Against her will, Christine began to tap her foot along with the beat of the base line.

Diamond woke up inside of her, restless and more than ready to wreak havoc against May.

_'You know why you're here, and you know what you have to do- for Erik, you need to get through this, and the longer you sit here, the longer it will take. Are you going to let that hag get away with talking to you that way? With _using_ you like this?! Christine, get off your ass and nail her!'_

Christine nodded to her reflection, "Whatever you say,"

In a swift move, she leapt up out of her chair, knocking it on the floor, and blocked everything but one goal from her mind.

The audience was heavy for it being so early in the day, and the men cheered as Diamond stormed the stage.

* * *

The hunt was on for information; before Erik, Christine had merely hated dancing. It had been a means to an end- a way to pay the mounting pile of medical bills for her mother. She'd been desperate for money, and had at one time been convinced that there was nothing medical science could not accomplish. Christine had had neurosurgeon specialists come in to run every test and administer every developmental drug known to man in the hopes of bringing her mother back. 

It had been a useless exercise, and monumentally expensive.

She'd given up hope for her mother's recovery long after every doctor had shook his head and given her that look of apologetic pity. There was simply nothing they could do.

The dancing had gone a long way towards the bills, as her living expenses were minor at best. Christine had lived in a tiny room above a bakery in Chinatown where one could go for hours and not hear a word of English. She hadn't minded- having no friends meant that there was no one to entice her to a girl's night out, which could be expensive.

Her appearance had suffered. Christine's clothes had grown out of style and overworn, her hair had grown too long and ragged, while her body had become a touch too thin and dark circles had began to show beneath her eyes. It was hell- but Christine had returned to the club, night after night, with only the goal of money on her mind.

She'd never dreamed that someone like Erik would take notice, or if she had, she certainly hadn't thought her life could have taken such a wonderful turn.

Now she had a man that cared for her and had gone to great lengths just to show how well he could provide. Their weekend together had been a dream, one wonderful surprise after another- but too easily that dream was torn from her mind.

_'I have to dance, and I will. I'll find out who's buying the drugs, and where to find them- I'll let the police know where to set up a sting; anything to never have to do this again!'_

Christine hated dancing, displaying herself in such a way, and so like many of the girls had suggested, she'd created a stage persona for herself. This is how Diamond became more than just a name, she became part of Christine.

Diamond loathed dancing, but all she saw were the dollars being tossed onto stage and slipped into the straps of her thong. She knew how to manipulate the audience with her movements and how to tempt the men into private dances. Sometimes it was easier to dance privately- it was quieter, at any rate, and more often than not the men only wanted some exclusive attention- it was a reprieve from demanding jobs and stressful homes. So far there had been no trouble, but Christine had sense enough to know that that was only a matter of time.

Diamond had learned how to take over, to show such immense confidence onstage and off, that there were times when Christine would have to tap into Diamond's attitude for that extra bit of strength when she needed it.

Diamond was angry, and pushed Christine to the side as she stormed onto the stage, her moves matching the music. The men cheered and tossed money as she writhed like a wild animal, slowly shedding her tiger-print costume to give hints of the svelte body underneath. The skin-tight vest had a front zipper that she lowered inch by inch, teasing and taunting the men as more money littered the stage floor.

Christine closed her eyes and pulled the zip apart, baring her breasts. The cheering men grew louder and even more money was tossed at her feet.

Diamond spoke to her, _'This is no place for you, Christine. Let me handle this,'_

Christine was only too happy to surrender control.


	20. Waiting Up

Erik was not home once Christine returned late in the afternoon. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly; she was glad that he wasn't there. It was strange to think that she'd only been away from the club for a few days- it had seemed ages ago that she'd been a willing stage dancer.

It had been surprisingly easy to slip back into dancing on the stage, writhing for the men and accepting their money. Christine had gone through the motions, letting her stage persona take over on the pole. She'd been dancing in that club for months, and she'd developed a routine that was difficult to break.

She felt dirty and guilty as she remembered the dances she'd performed that afternoon; her self-disgust was amplified as she entered Erik's loft. The rich décor and elegant appeal made her suddenly uncomfortable, she felt out of place.

_I don't belong here, I've never belonged with him!_

Erik knew where she had gone that morning, and he had also known what time to expect her back. He wasn't there, most likely he was revolted by her now. He knew the why of it all, that she was working as a sort of undercover for the police, but he was no doubt disgusted. Christine sighed, wondering where he might have gone.

_He knew that we weren't a match, he knew it from the very beginning and he still made me come back, night after night. The fun is over, Erik has to be bored with me by now. I'm not what he wanted. I have too many issues to overcome, no family, nothing to offer him. All I am to him is window dressing, I just look good on his arm. He could be out right now, looking for my replacement…_

Christine put a hand through her hair and decided that she needed a shower more than anything else. She wasted no time in stepping into the bathroom and shedding her clothes. The hot spray pounded her back, and though the urge was there, Christine swallowed her tears. What she felt that morning still held. She was furious in her helplessness, but it would be useless to cry.

_No more! No more!_

She washed her hair and rinsed off, washing away the stench of sweat and cigarette smoke that made her feel so filthy. She took a towel and slipped into the guestroom. Christine stared at the numerous shopping bags that still surrounded her bed, many of them she hadn't even explored yet and she had no idea what Claudette had purchased for her with Erik's money.

The woman had gone to great lengths to properly attire her as a rich man's witness, both in public and in private. She had bought all kinds of lingerie, little lacy things made to entice a man. Not just any man, but Erik alone. He was all Christine wanted- he'd given her hope that they could have a real life together, however short-lived it may have been.

Christine dug through the bags and boxes to find a pair of chocolate corduroy pants and a top of lavender lace. She dried her hair and applied just the barest of cosmetic, a touch of lipgloss and a simple swipe of brown mascara. This was Erik's home, he was bound to return soon and she wanted to look wholesome and pure for him, though that was the height of deceit.

Erik had seen her dancing with his own eyes, he knew what she had spent her afternoon doing, but Christine felt no need to remind him of the fact. He had been so hostile that night she'd come to him with a full face of garish makeup and she didn't want a repeat. They were strained enough.

She tidied up the loft, tossing away the morning's newspapers and cleaning each room of the apartment. She wiped down the kitchen counters, dusted in the dining room and vacuumed the living room. The dogs were gone, probably with Erik, and she was thankful. She wouldn't have been able to clean with them jumping at her.

Once Christine had finished with the front rooms, she went off to the guestroom and began to unpack the shopping bags, hanging the clothes up in the closet and then folding the rest, setting them into the blonde wood dresser. There was comfort in the domestic chores, and Christine drew them out, anything to stretch the hours from then until the next morning, when her next shift would begin.

There was a slight commotion at the front door, and she left her room to find Erik with the pups on their leashes. During their time over the weekend, he'd been dressed casually, but he was back in his fine tailored suit. He unleashed the pups and, catching her scent, they headed straight over to greet Christine.

She knelt to pet them, and could feel Erik's bright eyes holding steady on her. Christine looked up to see him staring down at her. "All right, Christine?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded, taking his offered hand. He helped her up, but was quick to release her. His posture was rigid, his stance slightly withdrawn. Christine swallowed. "Erik, why are you in a suit?"

He looked down at himself and ran a hand over the lapel of his jacket. "Oh, well, I must go to work tonight, at the opera. I'll also be making a stop at the university afterwards, but I shouldn't be too late in coming back home." He seemed uneasy, and hadn't looked into her eyes as he told her his plans for the night. "There's no need to wait up for me…you must be tired…"

So that was how he was playing it. He was avoiding her now, though Christine couldn't blame him. He must see her as a damaged, dirty woman. Unfit to share his bed, certainly, and unfit to share in his life. "You're leaving already?"

"Ah, yes. It's nothing groundbreaking at the university, the same for the opera. We're just going to be working on some ideas for the stage design of our next production. I was at my office for most of the day, but I only came home to take the dogs out." Erik said quickly. "I must go now, and I should be back before eleven,"

Christine nodded, feeling as if she'd been put in her place. Erik had to work, he was an important man, and also, it seemed, a very private one. They had yet to directly discuss any of the mess they'd been caught up with. He had promised to end it all, but Christine knew how men were; they all made grand vows in the heat of the moment, but what could Erik do to help her, really?

Erik took his briefcase from the coffee table and began moving towards the door. Christine moved quickly to follow after him, "Erik?"

He turned to look back at her, his face as impassive as that of his mask.

She wanted to reach out to him, touch him and feel his own gentle touch on her skin, but Christine could sense the wall that was already forming between them. She was ready to fight, and she beat her fists against it. "I'll wait up for you."

Erik said nothing. He only nodded, and left.

* * *

"Jesus, what happened to you?" 

Erik rolled his eyes. "I had a rough day at work," he replied stonily as he settled into Derek's office.

"The hell you did. My eyes aren't as sharp as they once were, boy, but I'm not so blind that I can't see you've had it a little worse than just 'rough'. Now come on, Erik, who can you talk to if you can't talk to me? I don't think that your old friend from the police force would appreciate a call this late."

Erik checked his watch. "It is late. Not too late, however. She won't be expecting me back for a while. Just enough time for a chat and a drink, if you have one."

Derek shot him a look. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Erik. You'd think that at a university like this I might have a nice selection available, but I'm afraid that the only alcohol available is the rubbing kind. It's got a great kick, but the hangover might kill you."

Erik sighed. "Right. I shouldn't drink anyway, I fear I'm fast becoming an alcoholic,"

Derek leaned back in his chair. "The girl?"

"Of course the girl!" Erik shot out of his chair and began his habit of pacing. "She's so wonderful and now the police are involved and she's just so damn unhappy and I'm hard pressed to have this all over and done with."

Derek frowned. "The police? What the hell are you talking about now?"

Erik sighed, "Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything. I'm just having trouble dealing with Christine, that's all."

"But she is living with you now?" Derek prodded.

He nodded, "Yes, I moved her things in just a few days ago. I sent her off with Claudette to shop, I bought her jewels, I even had a few dogs shipped over from specialized breeders in Europe. I did these things to show her I was committed."

"You should _be _committed to have done all this and still not have slept with her," Derek muttered.

Erik shot him a dirty look but only sighed, "Please…there's so much…I can't make any demands of her, and she's in a bad situation because of me. She's only dancing again to protect me. I love her for it."

Derek sighed and moved to a metal cabinet on one of the lab tables in his large office. He reached in and took out a bottle of whiskey. Erik raised a brow, "I thought you said-"

"I know what I said, Erik. I was being selfish, but you need a drink more than I thought. Are you trying to tell me that your little girlfriend has gone back to stripping to somehow protect you?" Derek asked as he poured them each a drink.

Erik nodded.

"And you can't tell me the exact reason why."

Again, a nod. "I'm sorry, Derek. The police were very adamant about the need for discretion. I'm sure I've said to much, but as you said, who can I talk to if not you?"

Derek handed him a glass. "I've only been your friend for so many years. I understand that there are always going to be certain things that you won't tell me, so I'm not going to bother pressing the issue. If you really care about this girl as much as you say you do, then you'll just have to weather the storm as best you can and hope that it all works out."

Erik sighed heavily after sipping the fine whiskey. "For a scientist, you sound like quite the hopeless romantic."

"Thanks so much, but you are right. I'm hopeless, I haven't had a date in weeks. I'm destined to be alone forever, so you must go out and enjoy life for me. Now, go on home Erik, and enjoy life with your woman."

Erik nodded, "Thank you Derek, I'll be sending over a little something as my way of saying thank you."

Derek laughed, "I'll hold you to that."

* * *

Erik arrived back to his loft late that night, much later than he'd promised Christine. After visiting with Derek, he'd driven aimlessly for a long while, not knowing what he could say or what he could do to make things right between them. None of it was her fault, and Erik was no fool. 

He knew that she had to have agreed to go back to dancing just as a way to protect him.

She'd told him herself how much she hated it, that exploiting herself had come as her last resort, a choice born of pure desperation. Again, Erik cursed her mother for piling so much misery onto her, and he cursed May for her underhandedness that had brought Christine back to the stage.

She was a pawn to so many people, and he knew that he was just as guilty. He wanted Christine for himself, to have her in his life and bed as his woman.

He'd never denied his selfishness; he was an ardent man and always had been.

Erik entered the loft to find the living room illuminated by the fireplace, the overhead lights were dimmed very low. Glancing into the small dining room, he saw that Christine had set out a meal for two; pasta, chicken, vegetables. A bottle of wine was on the table.

The pups ran over to him, but thankfully they had sense enough not to start barking. Erik obliged them with pats on the head, but he was not interested in them. What interested him most was the figure on the sofa. Christine was there, sitting up, her lovely face resting on her hand. Her lashes were dark fans over her face, her breathing was deep.

He felt his chest begin to ache for her. Christine had waited up for him, even when he'd returned home deliberately late. She'd cooked for him, and changed into a pretty lace dress. Erik sighed, feeling like a bastard and a disappointment to her. He approached her slowly, and kneeled before her on the floor. He took her hand and kissed her wrist.

Christine stirred slightly, her eyes barely opened, but she smiled at him in a dreamy haze. "Erik,"

He reached up to stroke her hair, "Hello, Christine,"

"I waited up for you,"

"You were sleeping,"

"No, I was just resting my eyes," she corrected him gently.

Erik nodded and took her into his arms, carrying her towards the guestroom. Somewhere in between the living room and the guestroom, Christine fell deeper into her sleep. He held her close to him, frowning slightly at how light she felt in his arms. Erik laid her down on the bed, taking extra care not to wake her.

He sat beside her on the bed for a moment, watching her, and planted a kiss on her shoulder. She appeared so innocent to him, but rather than offer him a sense of comfort, her innocence reminded him, with a pang in his chest, how utterly he had failed her.

_If we are ever to make a life together, I have to end this. I'll do what I have to now, whatever it takes. For you, Christine, I'll risk it all._


	21. An Old Friend

"Your girl sure has been dancin' up a storm, sugar. I've lost count of how many private dances she's done this past week,"

Erik's grip tightened on the glass of whiskey she'd handed to him once he'd entered her office. His bright, cold eyes took in the figure of May. He'd thought he'd known her, not well on a personal level, but well enough to conduct a healthy business relationship. It seemed that he was not as far beyond deceit as he liked to think.

His pride was wounded; it killed him to know that Christine was below them now, presumably giving a dance to some dirty bastard. Men were lusting for her on the stage, salivating at the sight of her, reaching for her…

Listening to May carry on was not helping his mood. He glared angrily at her back as she stood close to her wall of mirrored windows. _'I could push her through, it would end all of this. The fall might not kill her, but surely the falling shards of glass…_

Erik shook the thought away and returned to his primary objective for his drop-in visit. As pleasing as the thought of killing May was, he could hardly be with Christine if he was in prison.

"Yes, well, she is very dedicated," he said stonily.

May turned to him, and Erik again noticed how gaunt she appeared. Obviously it was the drugs; he wondered how many years had passed since she had first become involved in trafficking narcotics, the filthy whore.

The smile she gave him was hideous. "What's with that tone, Erik? Trouble in paradise? If Diamond isn't working out, you can have your pick out of the whole lineup. Hell, why stop at just one?"

She was sick.

His teeth clenched. "No. I only want her."

"True love, huh?" She scoffed.

"Something like that. I don't think you would understand. She means everything to me."

May nodded, thinking him still merely infatuated. "How sweet. Still, you might want to keep an eye on her. The way she's been dancing…it's almost like she's angry or something. I don't know," she yawned. "Whatever, I don't really care. I just think it's weird that you've taken a shine to someone like _her."_

"Why?"

"Why?" She repeated with a laugh. "Like you even have to ask! Whenever I picture you with a woman, I expect that you would have wanted someone…I don't know, _cleaner_, I guess." May shrugged.

"Cleaner?"

"You know what I mean! Someone that hadn't set foot in a place like this, someone with eight degrees in every field, someone with more talent than what it takes to grind in a thong all day…someone a little more like you, I guess."

Erik glared at her. May truly knew nothing of the intelligent beauty that lurked beneath all that garish makeup. _'I'll kill you, May, and I'll take Christine away from all of this, forever…'_

"I have a peculiar fetish," he admitted in a deadpan manner as he stared down at the untouched drink in his hand.

May glanced down to the main stage again, situated just below her mirrored windows. "It seems you're not the only one. That kid looks like he's come straight from the Hamptons,"

"Hmm? What kid?" He asked absently. '_I can't believe I'm sitting across from this _thing_ that I allowed into my city. I should have just left her to drown!'_

"Some kid is down there arguing with her. All right, nevermind, the bouncers are getting rid of him. Rich punk- you must have her on a short leash, looks like she doesn't want to ruin a good thing while it's lasting." She laughed.

Erik nodded. "Yes, well, it's an arrangement we're both happy with. Have you got those expense reports?" He urged her.

May nodded, "Yep, I'll be back in a minute, I have to get the last few pages of the report from the bar downstairs."

"Don't rush on my account, I might like to take in the view," he said with a touch of humor as she turned to leave.

No sooner did her office door click shut, Erik rose from his chair and headed straight toward her desk, searching for any piece of evidence that might be enough for the police to make an official arrest.

There was paperwork scattered over the surface of her desk, all kinds of licensing forms and spreadsheets set in disarrayed stacks. It was all to do with the business side of the club, nothing that could be remotely incriminating!

He gave a frustrated growl and turned to the filing cabinet, at once pleased and dismayed to find that it was locked. Erik figured that it had to be the drugs inside- how else would she be able to give the deliveries to her stripper carriers?

He returned to his seat at the exact moment that May reentered the office. If she suspected that he'd done anything in her brief absence, she didn't let on, she only handed him the expense reports as he'd requested.

"Thank you, May. I'll be in touch."

* * *

There were occasions when the humiliation of exposing oneself was made easier to deal with thanks to the music that pounded from the speakers situated all across the club. These occasions were few and far between, as the in-house DJ and the audience preferred edgy metal music, the kind that sounded more like the lead singer was trying to scream himself hoarse than carry a tune. 

Sometimes though, the DJ, Dave Caine, recognized the need for variety, and would play audience and dancer requests. For Diamond, she of the striking blue eyes and sensual mouth, Dave was happy to oblige, and even happier to find that she at least had decent taste in music.

Aerosmith's _Sweet Emotion_ flowed smoothly from the speakers, and the audience delighted in the familiar, timeless song. Diamond went back to the stage to dance, seeming to dance for herself rather than the lusting, reaching crowd.

Diamond had never been particularly selective against the music of the club, but she had started the morning with a nasty headache. For three days, she'd slept in the guest room of Erik's loft. The first night had been the easiest- Erik had carried her to the guest bed, he'd stroked her hair and kissed her shoulder. Christine had cooked for him, taking extra care to appear as wholesome and lovely as she could for him, while he had stayed out late, without a word of explanation or apology. She'd fallen asleep waiting for him, and she only had a few vague memories of speaking with him the night before.

He had put her in the guest room; he didn't want her in his bed.

Christine had awoken that morning, feeling miserable once she recognized the surroundings. The only male in her bed was King, while Snow had slept on the floor. She had emerged from her room, hoping to find him waiting with some kind of simple explanation, a smile, maybe he would just hold her for awhile…but he was gone by the time she went to look for him. His briefcase and laptop computer were gone.

Erik had left without even waking her to say goodbye.

It was a painul beginning to the week's new routine.

_'I never should have let myself think something like this could last. Maybe before I had to go back to dancing we could have had something, but everything is falling apart and it's only been a few days!'_

The wall had already wedged itself between them, despite Christine's pounding fists. It was a wide, open gulf of space forcing them further and further apart- Erik seemed indifferent to her attempts at engaging him, to her it seemed that he wished to avoid even speaking of it until it was all over, but then what? Did he think that things would fall back into place once she was free to leave the club forever behind her?

**_No!_**

Christine let Diamond take the stage, dancing to earn every last bill tossed to her and storing it all away into her account. The first and only stop she made after the end of her shift was the bank on the way back to Erik's apartment building. She steeled her heart as best she could, and because she had learned early how to be cold, Christine stamped down the pangs she felt as she deposited her cash.

It hurt, but dread filled her at the thought that Erik would ask her to leave soon. Christine had to be prepared.

He was a wonderful man but there was only so much a man could take; she was killing him with every move on the stage, and she knew it. Christine glanced up at the mirrored windows, suddenly feeling sick at the idea that Erik could be up there right now, standing beside May in her office, watching as she danced for the men.

It was how he had first seen her, after all.

_'God, Erik…I have to get out of here!'_

Diamond waited until the song was over before stepping off the stage, shaking off the hands that reached to touch her breasts as she moved through the throng of men that surrounded the stage, hoping for a private show in the back. She ignored the shouted propositions as she moved through the club.

She'd had enough, and her shift was almost over. She hadn't gleaned anything from the other dancers yet, and the clever idea to dance for as many men as she could in the hopes of finding where May's narcotics come from had more or less backfired in her face. She hadn't learned anything that could be of use, all she had done was wear herself out from the effort and push Erik away in the process.

Diamond cut through the crowd and headed toward the backstage area that lead in to the dressing area. She felt a strong hand clamp on her arm and she whipped around, ready to shake off whatever man thought he had a right to grab her just as she was leaving.

She turned, a biting insult on the tip of her tongue, but the man's face halted her world.

"Raoul?!"


	22. Raoul

It was not his usual habit to visit strip clubs- he'd been raised in a fair house; his mother and father had shared a strong union for nearly thirty years, raising two fine sons and the surprise blessing of three daughters.

The girls were triplets, five years younger than Raoul himself. No one had been more surprised or happy than the de Chagny parents- the girls, christened the "Weird Sisters" by Philippe, the family's eldest son, were the newest students at Manhattan Elite- the family had left Florida for the excitement of New York.

Raoul hadn't minded the move; he'd only just completed his degree and had decided to come back home for a time. He could have gone off and bought his own home, but he was tired, and only wanted a rest in the bosom of his family.

His education, his determination, had led him on a tour of the states to see the greatest architecture America had to offer. Traveling was exhausting, but he'd forgotten how tiring living at home could be. His sisters were teenagers now, gossipy, shallow, and beautiful, as all teenage girls are before they realize that there is more to the world than shopping and boys.

His parents had welcomed him home, congratulations all around for his success in degrees. They were proud of him, and boasted of his accomplishments to anyone that might listen.

Philippe had been his best friend growing up, but as the years had passed, they had grown distant. They had exchanged e-mails perhaps twice a month but it had been nothing like the way it was before, when they'd been partners in mischief.

Perhaps it had been a slight sense of guilt that had spurred Philippe to invite Raoul out to the city's hotspots. It had been a whirlwind week; in seven nights, Raoul had been to more nightclubs than he could remember, and been slipped more phone numbers than his cellular could hold.

He'd had a great time- the traveling and constant testing for school had put a complete stop on his social life but with the past seven nights, Raoul had been making up for lost time.

A strip club wasn't his usual idea of entertainment. He liked to dance with girls, not to just sit back and watch them move on a stage. Raoul didn't like the idea of paying a woman, either, but Philippe had convinced him to step out for some fun.

"Wake your ass up, kid, we're going out," his brother had reasoned to him, nudging Raoul in his ribs.

Raoul had been sleeping off the hangover from the night before on the living room couch when Philippe had made that announcement. They'd had a long night, the de Chagny brothers painting New York red.

"What are you talking about?" Raoul had groaned. "We've been out every night this week, now you want to start clubbing at," he checked his watch, "2:30 in the afternoon? Are you kidding me?"

Philippe had shrugged and pulled Raoul to stand up, "Well, if you want to see Tawny work the stage we have to get there before the day shift is over,"

"Who's Tawny? Did we meet her at Ghost Bar last night?" Raoul yawned as he moved toward the kitchen for some coffee.

"No, she's the best stripper on the east coast. Come on, kid, movie it," Philippe urged him, "Take a shower, brush your teeth, and wipe that look off your face!"

"You woke me up just to go to some strip club? Forget it, those places are a waste of money- I'm not paying some dirty, sweaty chick to grind on my lap," Raoul sneered, throwing up his hands.

"Hey, this place is nice," his brother protested.

"Oh, a nice strip club? Phil, there's no such thing,"

"Raoul, don't be such a pansy, all right? You've gotta see this girl, she's gorgeous!"

"Jesus, Phil, are you in love? We've been dancing and partying with gorgeous women all week, what the hell is so special about some pole-skank?" Raoul demanded as he poured himself a cup.

"Come see her onstage, you won't ask me that again," Philippe coaxed him.

"No way, I am not setting foot in some dive to watch this girl of yours give lap dances!"

Forty-five minutes later, Raoul was slumped at a table in Mama V's, sulking and wondering how Philippe always managed to get him to go along with whatever scheme he wanted. They'd always been in trouble when they were kids and it seemed that nothing would change now that they'd grown up.

Raoul had been to plenty of strip clubs when he was younger and only just becoming a man; it had been a thrill when he and his high school buddies had all gained their nerve and pooled their money to go see the ladies of Babydollz, one of the more popular clubs in Miami.

It had been a thrill- most of them had been virgins when they'd first gone; several of them hadn't even seen a real woman naked before.

Cheap thrills, that's all it had been.

Now, though, Raoul was a man. He had known a few women already and if he'd not loved all of them, he certainly had respect and admiration for them. He'd broken it off with his girlfriend a few months before, seeking the freedom to search for someone more compatible.

The girlfriend in question, Vicky, had been beautiful but undedicated. They'd had more than a few fights toward the end, and Raoul had since been enjoying life on the single side.

He'd dated, he'd danced, he'd wined and dined, and had met amazing women from all over the city since coming back to New York to be with his family. Most of the women he'd met were like him- fresh out of school, newly single and searching for some fun.

Raoul's idea of fun was not a strip club- now that he was older and wiser, he thought they were dirty. Just like casinos, strip clubs had no clocks and no windows, the entire building being one massive structure dedicated to drain the hard-earned money from a man's pockets.

Some men went to the clubs just to escape the real world for awhile, happy to pay a woman to listen to his troubles while she writhed against him in a mockery of sex.

Raoul had visited Babydollz with his friends only three times before he'd met a young woman that had so greatly outshined the false, sleazy glamour of the clubs. Christine Daae had been her name, such a wonderful girl; she'd been adventurous, beautiful, vibrant and so full of life.

Christine had been happy to stay with Raoul for hours and hours, and Raoul had been happy to have her; it had been too late to help when he'd found out why it was she'd never wanted to go home.

He'd been away at college when his sister Tessa, the first of the triplets, had called him with the news. There had been a great deal of confusion, but Christine's mother had been taken to the hospital, her stepfather arrested and Christine had gone missing.

His phone calls and e-mails had gone unanswered- Raoul had wanted to return home, but all that madness had occurred just before his final exams that year- no professor would accept his excuses, and his scholarships would leave no room for failure. He'd had no choice but to stay and finish his exams before taking the first flight back to Miami to find Christine and help his friend in any way he could.

It had all been useless.

When he'd returned, Christine's house had been empty. While her mother remained in the ICU of Miami general, no forwarding address had been left, no sign of Christine. Raoul had stayed in Florida for as long as he could, remaining steadfast at Rebecca's bedside, waiting for Christine to come and visit her mother, but his friend never came. Still, he waited until his education demanded that he return.

When he had called to the hospital, he'd been curtly informed that Mrs. Downs had been removed to another medical facility, Raoul had fell the world tilt beneath his feet. He was not allowed the location of where she had been moved, and he had not seen Christine since the day he'd left for school.

It was as if the young woman he knew had dropped off the face of the earth.

Until just then, when the blonde had emerged from behind a curtain.

He blinked and squinted, "Good God, is that Christine?"

Philippe turned to him, "Hmm? Who?"

"That, that girl over there on the gold pole. You don't think…?"

"Raoul, you're not still obsessed with that girl, are you? For God's sake, she disappeared! Probably ran off with some dude and has seven kids by now," Philippe said absently as he watched the stage, his eyes riveted on the blonde he'd identified as the wonderful Tawny.

Raoul rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Phil! Her stepfather beat her mom into a coma, you think she'd take off after that?"

Philippe turned from the stage and threw up his hands, "It's been months, Raoul! You spent your entire spring break waiting in her mother's hospital room, and did she ever come? How many times did you call her, how many times did you write? She jumped ship, my friend, and I can't blame her."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Philippe took a swig of his beer and cleared his throat, "All right, listen, I remember Christine. How could I not? She was a cute little peach, always around the house, and you two, thick as thieves- you two were so cute together it made me fuckin' sick. Now, when we found out all that shit that was going on behind closed doors…I punched a hole through my wall. That girl was like a member of our family, Raoul, but I don't blame her for one second if she took the chance to get away from everything." Philippe shook his head lightly, "I hope she's happy, I hope she's on a beach somewhere right now with a margarita in one hand and a martini in the other. God knows she deserves to be happy. Who knows where she's gone? But, I can tell you one thing, she is not over there riding the pole."

Raoul shook his head, "I hope you're right, but I'm going to go make sure."

With that said, Raoul left the table and headed toward the stage.

* * *

The young woman was just leaving the stage, each fist clutching several large bills, she was heading towards a doorway which Raoul figured to be the stripper's personal area. He couldn't loose her, he didn't care how stupid he might look, he had to know for sure.

He lunged forward and caught her shoulder, turning her to face him. Behind all the makeup, and despite the noise and colored lights that surrounded them, Raoul recognized her.

"Raoul?"

That she had said his name was all he needed to chase away any doubts he'd had. A million questions flew through his mind, but he could put nothing into words; all he knew, all that he cared about was that he'd found his friend again.

Suddenly overwhelmed, he pulled her into a hug, but his happiness was short-lived as she pulled away from him. "What are you doing? Don't touch me!"

Raoul frowned, "What, I was just-"

"The lady said no, buddy, let's move it along."

Raoul turned to find himself facing a wall of flesh, one of the club's many heavily muscled bouncers. "No, no, I know her, I wasn't trying to-"

"Hey, kid, I've heard it all, now get movin'." The bouncer ordered. He'd seen Raoul's type before- dripping with money and arrogance; whenever the Hampton boys decided to get pushy with the girls, most of the bouncers took a special pleasure in 'escorting' them from the facility.

Christine stood just behind the larger man, Raoul could see her shaking slightly, her mouth working but no sound coming out. She blinked and then shouted to him, "I'll meet you outside!"

Raoul nodded and then let himself be dragged out by the dancers' bodyguard, still amazed and disbelieving, still so happy that he had finally found her.

* * *

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" Christine asked once she found him waiting for her just outside the club entrance. She had changed into a pair of cargo khakis and an army green shirt to match, with a gorgeous black wool coat to keep her warm in the sweeping cold- if it weren't for his sisters, Raoul never would have recognized the designer labels, but he did notice, and felt his long-buried anger towards her flare to the surface.

"What am _I_ doing here? That's what I should be asking you, or better yet, where the hell have you been? Why didn't you ever get back in touch with me? God, I don't know what to think!" He ranted.

Christine furrowed her brow, an expression of hers that he remembered all too well. For a moment he wished that she was still wearing her stage makeup, so garish and bold, so that he might pretend she was only a girl that resembled the Christine that he'd known. He could not pretend- Christine had scrubbed her face free of the stuff, and the young woman he'd loved so dearly stood before him, defiant and obviously trying to hide her past.

"Answer me!" He demanded, ready to reach for her shoulders and shake the truth out of her, "What are you doing in this place? I can't believe you would do this to yourself, you were going to be a lead dancer at Manhattan Ballet, why are you up there dancing like a goddamn whore?"

Christine had been silent and composed the entire time, up until that point. Raoul knew that words hurt, but he'd never heard of any words with the power to crumble a person. Christine practically collapsed against him, crying and clutching.

"Oh, God, Raoul…I'm so sorry, there was just too much…"

He hated himself as he put his arms around her, stroking her hair. "Christine, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that…I...God, I haven't see you in so long and now I'm here screaming at you on the street. Let me, we need to talk, come on, let's find a place to sit down and we can catch up, for better or worse. Does that sound all right?" He asked. He felt confused, but the only solution would be for them to sit down somewhere and talk everything out.

Slowly, Christine nodded her consent.

* * *

Raoul wasn't a native New Yorker. He didn't know the city as well as he wished, most of his experience had been crammed into the past seven nights, and that experience had been a whirlwind of nightclubs, beautiful girls and alcohol.

Still, he didn't need a damn roadmap to find a Starbucks.

It was only a few blocks away when his sharp blue eyes had spotted the familiar round, green emblem. He breathed a sigh of relief once he caught sight of the cafe.

_Coffee, pastries...we'll sit down, catch up, and maybe Christine will explain what the hell is going on!_

Christine had walked beside Raoul, keeping pace with his hectic stride. It was bizarre, almost surreal to have his long lost friend back with him again- and to had finally found her, writhing on a stage in New York!

Life was crazy, it always had been.

He wanted to know everything, he would rattle the truth from her if he had to, but Raoul deserved the truth. He glanced at her as they walked the crowded sidewalk. Christine had calmed down, her eyes were only a bit red now. Even with her eyes slightly puffy, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever set his eyes on- he felt his heart turned over in his chest.

Raoul didn't want to to judge her, but after seeing her writhing the pole in nothing but a plain blue thong, he had to admit that she was changed in his eyes. He'd loved her so much, seeing her up there, naked, clutching all the bills thrown at her…she wasn't the same in his eyes, likely she never would be again, but he had to try. No matter what had happened, she was still his friend, she was still Christine.

He had to help her.


	23. Reconnecting

**Author's Note: I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but writer's block is a bigger bitch than Ann Coulter! Please read and review- after this the story will get a little more intense ;-)**

* * *

Raoul thanked the barista and turned back to find Christine where he'd left her, staking their claim to the chic sofa in the corner of the café. He was glad that the place wasn't too crowded, but it had just the right flow of traffic where they wouldn't be bothered. Out of pure habit, he'd ordered her a white chocolate mocha; it had been her favorite when they were together in Miami- too late he realized that her tastes might have changed in their time apart. 

He took a seat beside her and set the plate of scones on the low table before them- they had so much to catch up on, food was really the last thing on his mind. He just hoped that she would open up to him; after all this time, he felt that he deserved some answers.

"Here you go," he said as he handed over her coffee. "Sorry, I didn't know what you wanted, I don't even know if you like mocha any more," he said as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Christine had been quiet for the entire walk from the club to the café, and Raoul could understand her state of slight shock. He didn't know which of them should have been more surprised- all was equal, he supposed.

Christine ticked her head slightly, coming out of her trance, and took then cup with a smile. "Oh! No, it's still my favorite. Some things never change," she smiled as she took a sip. Physically he couldn't see much difference in her now than from when he knew her before- she was still exceptionally beautiful, almost exotic; he was overjoyed to have found her, but he had to know why she was in that club, degrading herself.

He had to know why she'd left him.

"And some things do," Raoul said sternly, reminding her of the very reason they were sitting across from one another.

He watched as Christine took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose; obviously this conversation would lead her towards a migraine, but Raoul wouldn't stop until he understood why she had disappeared.

"All right, Raoul. You found me, fair and square. Now that you have me here, I don't suppose you'll let me just gloss over everything that's happened from Miami until now?" She asked with a half-hearted smile.

His chest swelled with happiness simply from being in her presence- he had missed her cleverness, her dry sense of humor and her sharp mind.

That something so horrible had happened to her, and she'd been too ashamed to confide in him…it twisted something in his soul, encouraging all that was dark and vengeful within him- from the moment he'd learned the truth, Raoul had been sick with a lust for the blood of Michael Downs.

_Christine, Christine..._

He cleared his throat. "No, I'm not letting it go." He took her hand into both of his, kissing it. "Christine, please, tell me what happened. If you let me, I can help you,"

Christine rolled her eyes lightly and smiled at him the way she always used to, "Raoul, you don't have to do anything. You already know everything that's happened, why dwell on it?"

He held her hand tighter, searching her eyes. "You could have told me, Christine. You know I would have protected you," he said. "When I found out what he did-"

Christine pulled her hand from his and reached for her cup, "Raoul, I love you, but if you bring it up again I'm walking out that door." She said abruptly.

The glare of steel in her eyes told him she meant to keep her promise- one more word on the subject of her past abuse and she would run for the door. Raoul had lost enough races to her in the past to know not to push his luck. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "All right, all right. Will you at least tell me where you've been all this time?"

She took one of the scones from the plate and took a bite. Raoul chose one for himself and watched as Christine sipped her coffee to wash down the sweet pastry. He thought she might be stalling for time, but by the set of her jaw and the tense line of her eyebrows, he saw that she was simply preparing herself.

"I was...recovering, Raoul. You know he broke my leg, but I was lucky because it was a clean break- after a few months I was back to normal, minus the ballet. My mother was in a coma- she still is- and all sorts of bills were piling up. I'd spent weeks in a hotel- you can understand why I didn't want to go back to our house. Dancing is the only thing I know how to do, Raoul, but ballet doesn't pay the bills."

"We would have helped you-"

"I didn't need anyone's pity, Raoul, and I still don't! I thought of going to you- I would stare at my phone and watch as it blinked your name every time you called, I read all your e-mails, but what could I have possibly said if I'd agreed to see you? 'Hi Raoul, sorry you had to find out from Channel 8 that my stepfather was a monster'? I couldn't take the shame, so I hid. Then I ran." She informed; Christine was speaking with a tight control over her voice, and Raoul thought it likely that she had been rehearsing this speech in her head on their walk to the cafe.

He could understand- her past was horrible, no one deserved what Christine had been through, but it hurt him that she wasn't truly confiding in him. Rather, she was rattling off the facts and threatening to run if he even tried to broach the subject.

Where had his friend gone?

"You didn't have to run or hide- you mean so much to me, to all my family," Raoul told her in earnest as he took her hand.

"Which is why I couldn't take the shame...I'm sorry Raoul." Her face opened to him, her eyes were sincere. Raoul brought her into his arms and kissed her hair, stroked her back.

"No, I'm sorry. I hate it when you're right, but you're an adult, and I have no right to pry into your business. I'm sorry again, but I have to know why you're still dancing," Raoul said. "Please, Christine, you don't belong in a place like that, let me help you!"

Christine sighed.

They had only just begun.

* * *

Erik reflected that for the first time in his life, he shared his home with someone he loved. With the pets, the loft was crowded in comparison to his life before Christine. 

How strange was it that, despite sharing his life, he had never felt so lonely.

He would rather not see Christine at all than keep up this awkward roommate relationship.

They had spent little time together outside of taking the dogs out on obligatory walks to the park each morning and night, and even then the air between them practically bristled with unspoken tensions.

They were in a sorry state- Erik could feel their relationship deteriorating, and it killed him that Christine's feelings towards him were beyond his control. What more could he do? He'd offered her the world…when all was said and done, Erik was powerless to make Christine love him the way that he'd come to love her.

Not much time had passed since the day Christine chose to cooperate with the police- it had barely been a week since she'd agreed to resume the role of a dancer to work as a sort of mole in their investigation. Erik understood her reasons- May was trafficking narcotics, hardcore drugs. Perhaps Christine felt compelled to held stop May's crimes, or maybe she chose to go along with the idea simply to protect him from the negative press that would surely follow if the police stormed the club in a raid.

Whatever her reasons, it killed Erik all the same.

He stared out the window of his bedroom, restless and captive by his frustration. He had been warned that any suspicious behavior of his around May might set off a caution alarm; if she thought Erik was watching her, she could put a hold on the trade for months until she thought the heat was off.

The lead investigator, David Casey, had cornered Erik on his way home, warning him to stay away from the club.

"I get what you're trying to do, Mr. Latour, but let me be frank. There is no room for vigilantes in this case, all right? If you do anything that could set off Valerious's suspicion, this could take months to wrap up. Your girl might have to extend her help to us for a longer stretch- neither of us wants that, but you are endangering yourself, your little girlfriend and this investigation."

Detective Casey had left no room for misunderstanding- anything that Erik did now could be seen with suspicion. He wasn't to go back to the club again, and now that Christine was with him, there had really never been much of a reason for him to go there anyway. Christine had been his only motivation to set foot in that place, though he'd let May believe that he came to discuss business matters- she hadn't believed him for long; she had seen his eyes wander to the blonde onstage and regretfully, May wasn't a fool.

Erik realized that Christine had been a pawn of May's from the very beginning, a distraction to him while she expanded her drug ring.

Even he had to admit that her plan had worked perfectly, though he refused to admit defeat.

Things between he and Christine were strained, but he would not allow things to fall apart now; not now when they'd barely begun what could be a wonderful life together.

Erik was tired, exhausted, really. His various projects outside of the opera and his property holdings had taken up much of his time; usually he wasn't so busy, but he saw now that his work life was driving the wedge between he and Christine even deeper.

How were they ever to reconnect when he couldn't even manage to make it home at a decent hour?

They were destroying themselves from the inside out.

"Erik?"

He turned toward his open bedroom door, where Christine was standing just over the threshold. His bright eyes widened at the sight of her; her lithe frame was again draped in a whisper of silken lace for the night. He couldn't imagine anything more enticing than the sight of her there, the long sheet of honey blonde hair falling over her shoulders, practically naked in the white light of the snow from outside.

Without hesitation, Erik went to her, holding out his hands. To his relief and joy, Christine slid her hands into his, lacing their fingers. He led her further into his room, and brought her into his arms. He rested his chin on the crown of her head for a few moments, just holding her and absorbing the vanilla scent of her hair.

_Perhaps hope is not lost on us after all..._

He stroked a hand up and down her back, simply enjoying the feel of her.

"May I sleep with you tonight?" She asked him quietly.

Erik knew what she was asking, though he didn't like the formality of her request. He almost expected her to address him as 'sir' the way she was acting!

He pulled back from her, just far enough that he could see her face. "Of course, Christine. I would love that. Is everything…are you all right?" He asked her hesitantly, stroking her cheek.

She took a deep breath and nodded, "I'm all right. I just ran into a friend today. You know, from before," she explained. Her meaning was plain; by before, she meant the life she'd left behind in Miami.

Erik turned down the covers on what had become her side of the bed, and then he settled on his side so that they could talk. He felt blissful that she had come to him with this bit of news- if she wanted to talk, then surely they could reconnect and rebuild what they'd lost?

Christine settled against him and sighed, breathing in his scent. It was strange to miss someone when they shared your space, but Christine had felt she and Erik become strangers to each other over the week she'd spent dancing in his club. She had come to him looking for advice, but she wanted more from him, always more. She wanted to simply be with him, to connect with him in any way that she could.

Erik held her, his blood singing with happiness as she allowed his hands to wander the shapely curves of her body.

"He knew me when it happened, but he hadn't been there at the time. I…I was hiding, I couldn't face him, knowing that he and his whole family knew what had happened to me." Christine explained quickly.

"Who is he?" Erik asked. He felt only a slight twinge of jealousy, but she was there with him, not this unnamed former friend. He was only curious, that was all. Of course it was.

Christine looked up at him and ruffled his hair, mussing it even more. "Oh, Raoul. Raoul de Chagny. It's a silly name, I know, but his family is French. We were friends for awhile, best friends, really. He's older than me; he was at college when it happened. I didn't answer his calls or his e-mails, I didn't go back to the house. I hid from everyone for weeks…"

Erik held her tighter, "Don't be ashamed of what you did. Given the circumstances, I'm sure he understood your reasons."

"Raoul was so angry with me today, Erik. He made me sit down and explain everything, from Miami to New York, he made me tell him everything that's happened,"

"He still cares for you, I'm sure he only wants to help." Erik said as he touched her hair.

She laughed a little. "I know he does, he's always been like that. He wants to see me again this weekend. By now he's probably told his family that he found me again. I can't face them, it's just so humiliating! I…I didn't tell him anything about you, Erik. I just told him I was living with someone, that's all."

He frowned in confusion, "Why didn't you tell him about us?"

Christine turned away from him, "The great Erik Latour, keeping a stripper as his mistress. That's not good for business," she said.

Was she trying to imply that their arrangement could incite some kind of scandal? That she wanted to remain as his dirty secret?

"Don't think that way." Erik told her, kissing her bare shoulder.

"Have you told your friends about us?" She asked as she traced a scar on his chest.

"I don't have many friends to begin with, but of course Claudette knows, as does Derek, a few close people at my offices and the opera…they don't know about what happened in Miami, Christine. That's not mine to tell."

Christine dropped a soft kiss on his chest by way of thanks. "You're a good man, Erik. A great man. More than I deserve. I don't want this to end."

He frowned again, uncertain of her meaning. "It doesn't have to, Christine. We've only just begun."

There was a long, telling silence. Then, "I want to believe you."


	24. A Simple Saturday

Erik awoke on Saturday morning feeling very rested, content to stay in bed for the rest of the day. He would have gladly done so, but the pups were making too loud a racket to be ignored.

He shifted his leg slightly and tried to move his arm but finally opened his eyes to find that Christine had pinned his hand beneath her. Erik smiled, so happy to have her with him again. The past week had been hell for him, and he knew that she hadn't fared much better.

Erik realized that silence between two people could be deadly, and there was no room for misunderstandings between them. Perhaps there was a way that they might make it through this difficult time, so long as they remained honest with each other.

_'It's really not so different than the arrangement we had before. I hate what's happening but I can't take my frustration out on her, none of it is her fault. She does these things to protect me. Beautiful girl! When this is over, we'll leave the city to get away from all this. For now we can only weather the storm…'_

"We can't stay in bed for much longer, can we?" Christine asked him.

Erik raised his brows; he hadn't even realized that she'd woken up!

He smiled fondly down to her sleepy blue eyes and pulled his hand out from beneath her. He stretched his numb fingers. "Ah, as much as I'd love to, the dogs will never let us," he said as King and Snow began to scratch at the bedroom door.

Christine groaned slightly and then shook her head. "We're coming, we're coming," she called out to the eager pups. She stood up from the bed and straightened her night slip as Erik sat on the edge of the bed and yawned deeply.

He stood up and went to his bathroom, intent on a shower. "I'll be ready in fifteen," he said to her.

Christine nodded and opened the bedroom door, where the pups immediately jumped on her, eager for attention. "Okay, we're getting ready," she said as she pushed them off of her.

She went into the hall bathroom and splashed water on her face before applying a little moisturizer and makeup. Christine made quick work of brushing out her hair and putting together an outfit of black denims and a turquoise sweater.

It was going to be a casual, lazy Saturday, she could already tell, and so she didn't bother with jewelry or perfume. She sat down on the guest bed and Snow leapt up to join her. Christine stroked her pup's soft white fur and smiled somewhat dreamily that she and Erik had reconnected.

If she had her way, they never would have met in the way they had; they would have met under completely different circumstances- perhaps Erik would have been working on an opera production in which the Manhattan Ballet would be a part of. They would have flirted and Erik would have asked her to dinner. From there, who knows what could have happened?

She shook her head.

_I can't waste time wondering what it would be like if things were different. This is the way things are, and we'll just have to take it as it comes…even if things end between us, I'm still going to enjoy what we have while I can…'_

Christine had found that she loved Erik for more reasons than she could name. She loved him, she loved him, but how could she tell him and expect him to believe her when he knew that she was a trained deceiver?

Erik knew that sexual dancers were all exceptionally skilled at making men believe what they want to believe; Christine, or rather Diamond, had charmed men out of their money easily, night after night, for months.

Christine shook her head.

_I am not Diamond. I'll tell Erik tonight, but it's up to him if he believes me or not…_

* * *

Their walk was pleasant, made so by the agreeable weather and the fact that Erik and Christine were speaking freely. The tension between them had dissipated the night before when she had gone to him, and it seemed to have disappeared now. 

Erik's large hand enveloped hers as they walked, and Christine smiled, giddy with relief, as he told her about the latest opera production.

"We're nearly finished with all the stage design, but the production won't go on for a few more weeks. I'll show you what we have so far later on tonight, if you'd like," he suggested as the pups trotted along in front of them.

Christine rose up on her toes and kissed his neck, then his cheek. "I'd love to see it, Erik. I'd also love it if you could meet Raoul tomorrow after I see him for lunch," she said, remembering her friend.

Erik raised his one exposed brow at her. "You want me to meet him? Are you sure that you'd rather not have time to yourselves?"

He didn't mind if she went off to visit with this young man on her own, and he certainly didn't want to seem the overbearing third wheel to their reunion.

Christine shook her head. "Well, we could have lunch and then come see you afterwards," she suggested.

Erik nodded, "I have an idea. Have your lunch and then bring him by the opera tomorrow afternoon- that way I could treat you both to a viewing of the rehearsal. It's like watching the real production, though the performers aren't in costume,"

"Erik that's a fantastic idea!"

_She is so happy today..._

"Fantastic? No, just selfish. This way I can have you to myself for tonight- whether we dine in or out," he said with a laugh, pulling on King's leash to reign the pup to him.

They walked a while more and then let the dogs into the free field where they could play a bit and Erik could speak more closely to Christine.

They found a bench and he took her hands into his. Her skin was chilled by the cold air, but he warmed her and did not hesitate to brush her lips with his own. Erik didn't think that he had to tell her how glad he was that they were speaking again- he was overjoyed to have his young friend back by his side.

Christine smiled at him, so wonderful, and gripped his hand tighter. "Erik, I'm happy that we're all right now."

He looked into her eyes. "I am as well, love. If we both try to weather this storm, and end it as soon as we can, I think we'll be just fine."

"Amen to that!" Christine exclaimed. "If I could, I'd happily burn the place down. We could do that tonight, couldn't we?"

Erik laughed. "You bring the matches, I'll bring the gasoline. We'll dance over the ashes."

"That does sound wonderful…the dancing, I mean, not the arson. I was only kidding. Well, half-serious, anyway."

"Of course you were. The same thoughts have crossed my own mind more than a few times this week, if we're being perfectly honest."

"I am. But enough of that. I don't want to talk about that place anymore." Christine declared.

"Tell me more about your friend, this Raoul de Chagny."

Christine looked down, away from him, as if guilty. Erik reached forward and cupped her cheek, turning her back to face him. "Did I hit a nerve, I wonder?" He asked her teasingly. "Were you and he…?"

Christine shook her head, "No, no, it's not that. We were never together…Erik, you're my first…oh, what's the male term for mistress? Is there even a word for it?" She asked in charming confusion.

Erik shook his head. "Master is the opposite of mistress, but even I am not so arrogant to think you would call me that," he said with a smile.

She playfully shoved him, "Good! I would never call anyone master. But back to the point, you're my first boy-"

"If you call me your boyfriend, I'll throw you to the crocodiles in Central Park Zoo." Erik said sternly. "We've both been out of high school long enough, don't you think? And I am no boy."

Christine laughed at him, "All right, as you wish- you're not my master, not my boyfriend…so what does that make you?"

"I'm your man, Christine." He said sincerely as he took her hands into his and kissed them each.

"My first man, then. Do you understand?" She asked him.

Erik nodded.

He understood her perfectly.

"Raoul might have had feelings for me, but he never acted on them. I love him; he's still my friend. His family moved to New York a few months ago, it was just chance that he saw me yesterday," Christine said.

"You mentioned that he said his family would like to see you."

"He did say something about that, but I don't think it's a good idea, especially now. I loved his mother- she was more of a mother to me than mom ever was. I just…one de Chagny at a time, you know?" Christine sighed. "I don't want to sit down and have to explain everything to them all; hopefully by now Raoul has passed on my love to them, with my explanation."

Erik brought her into his arms and kissed her neck.

"I will meet your friend tomorrow, Christine. Raoul is important to you, he'll be welcomed with open arms," Erik promised her.

* * *

Their day was spent together; everything standing between them fell away. 

Since they had awoken late in the morning, breakfast was skipped over and Christine was happy to make lunch for them both.

Erik watched her as she went about making sandwiches- for all Erik's skill in the kitchen, he lacked the imagination for cold lunches and desserts. Luckily, Christine excelled where he fell short. He liked that they were able to balance each other.

Such a small thing, really, but it endeared him all the same.

After lunch they lounged for a while, Erik gave Christine a gentle neck massage while he told her the story of how drunk he'd been when he decided to get himself tattooed. The blazing eagle scarred into his shoulder blade was a good reminder not to indulge beyond his limit.

"Now I've told you my story, let's hear yours," Erik coaxed as he kissed her shoulder.

Christine smiled and leaned her back against his chest, shivering slightly as his hands came around her waist to settle on her stomach. "All right, well I wasn't drunk when I got mine," she said, wiggling the ankle that held her modest black star. "Raoul actually dared me when I turned nineteen, sort of a crazy birthday dare. He promised to pay for any tattoo that I picked out- I didn't want anything huge. Not much of a story, huh? Not much of a tattoo, either." She shrugged.

Erik moved quicker than she could blink, standing and taking her ankle, lifting her by the leg. She exploded into laughter as he raised her foot into the air and tickled her mercilessly.

"Erik, Erik stop!" She laughed.

He stopped tickling, but he didn't release her ankle. She practically dangled above the couch and Erik didn't appear stressed to lift her. Perhaps she was lighter than she thought.

"It was a wonderful story and this," he moved her pants leg to the side to reveal her ink, "is a wonderful tattoo."

"Will you let me down?"

Erik lowered her slowly and caught her into his arms as she launched herself at him, playfully fighting. He held her to him, content and feeling more than a bit playful himself.

"We must stop this," he told her. "If we spend the day rough-housing, we'll be too tired to dance tonight,"

Christine stopped struggling against him, "What are you talking about?"

"I've made reservations for tonight. Dinner and dancing- I'm not much of a dancer myself, you'll have to teach me." He teased.

Christine smiled, "I haven't danced in ages!"

She kissed him eagerly, hardly able to wait for the evening to begin.


	25. Dancing

In their respective rooms, Erik and Christine had prepared for their night out together with all care. Their efforts had not been put to waste, if the shared reaction to each other was any indication. Upon seeing each other, they had both fallen silent, eyes riveted.

For her, Erik had donned his finest black dinner jacket; the deep ebony cut him a lean, imposing figure. In startling contrast, the pristine white of his shirt exploded to her gaze. The white of his mask was a perfect match to his shirt, setting off his bright eyes and dark hair.

Christine felt her breath hitch at the sight of her man so perfectly groomed, so sophisticated and elegant. He was as intimidating as he was beautiful in his strength. Surely, Erik would be the recipient of female interest tonight. There was a strange, dangerous shine to his eyes, and Christine felt her pulse quicken as she watched him absorb the sight of her.

Unlike Erik, Christine had forgone black and chosen a gown of screaming scarlet. The cut of the dress was fairly simple, thin straps supported a modest neckline and long skirt. The draping material skimmed her trim form, creating the perfect silhouette. Erik glanced down, surprised and delighted to see a long slit in the dress, revealing one of her endless legs. It thrilled him to see her wearing the sapphire pendant.

"You look…"

"So do you!" Christine said excitedly, reaching for his hand.

Erik took her hand into his, drawing her to him and turning her- the dress was backless. His hands longed to reach forward and stroke her, but Erik held back. He knew if he touched her that way, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

_She was so exotically sensual…_

He smiled, "Are you ready?"

Christine nodded, all eagerness. "Oh, yes. Can you dance, Erik?"

Erik took his keys and shrugged into his coat as they left the apartment, heading towards the elevator. "I can do a wobbly box-step, how's that?" He asked, smiling.

The elevator chamber hit their floor and they both stepped inside. "Well, I don't want to brag, but ballet isn't my only dance. I can do it all," Christine winked.

Erik raised his brow, and stroked her arm. "And do it all very well, I imagine. But when we get to the floor, I beg you to go easy on me, Christine. I'm a dance-challenged old man, you don't want to embarrass me do you?"

Christine laughed as the doors opened and they moved through the lobby, greeting Jerome behind the desk as they moved past him. "You want me to go easy on you? Sorry Erik, I can't do that. When we get on the dance floor, I'm going to give it everything I have."

He smirked at her. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

Erik and Christine arrived at _Denver's_, a popular restaurant renown for it's pleasant atmosphere and beautiful dance floor. Christine was not unaware that a great many sets of eyes were trying to be discreet as they followed the progress she and Erik made as they were led across the room to a table.

They were seated quickly, and Erik made the order for a bottle of fine red wine. "Have you noticed that a lot of people are watching us? Or rather, they're trying to make it _look_ like they're not watching us." Christine remarked.

Erik raised a brow and smirked at her, bumping her foot with his under the table. "And why wouldn't they look, Christine? You look wonderful, and being here with me is sure to turn a few heads."

"Are you really that interesting to them?"

Erik laughed, "In a world of stockbrokers, someone has to liven things up a bit. I'm considered the resident eccentric. Being here with me, that makes you the top subject of discussion, I expect."

Christine laughed at him, "And here I thought people of the upper class were supposed to be so sophisticated and elegant! You're like a bunch of gossiping high school students, aren't you?"

Erik smiled, loving her more with each passing minute. He took her hand into his. "I wouldn't disagree with you there, Christine. No one ever really grows out of their youth here. Do you mind me telling you that you look stunning tonight?"

A strange, warm feeling swept over Christine as she saw the open adoration in his eyes. Nervously, she cleared her throat. "I, um, no I don't mind." Gaining confidence from Erik's playful look, Christine went on, "In fact, I'd be gravely offended if you didn't tell me how beautiful I was every hour, on the hour tonight."

"That won't be a problem. The way you look tonight, Christine, me and every other man will be telling you every few minutes how wonderful you are. And if your confidence on the dance floor is anything to speak of, I'm sure you'll be the most sought-after young woman in New York." Erik said as he brushed a kiss over her wrist.

She felt blood rise to her cheeks and ears, staining her skin as red as her dress. "I think I can live with that," Christine replied, her voice suddenly lower.

Erik smiled and released her hand, feeling a welcome sensation spread through his own body. He was happy to have her to himself, even while they were being discreetly observed by his friends.

He was even happier that they were flirting. It was fun, and it was a good omen for their future.

She was a stunning sight, a bold slice of scarlet in a room full of common winter black. Besides being beautiful, Christine was so vibrant, so alive and exotic, she was drawing smiles from all that glanced their way. There was an innocence in her behavior; she wasn't playing for the crowd, and she wasn't playing him.

After the first few women he'd become involved with, Erik had developed ways to determine whether a woman was genuinely interested in him, or just his bankroll.

The waiter appeared to present them with their wine and then their meal, a steak for Erik and fine pasta for Christine. All throughout dinner, they spoke of music, film, politics, touching briefly on a number of subjects while occasionally touching each other's hand or shoulder.

Their intimacy did not go unnoticed by the patrons surrounding them.

Christine excused herself to use the ladies room, where she mentioned a need to powder her nose. Erik didn't really understand what that meant- she looked perfect to him, why did she feel a need to touch up her makeup? He shook his head, resigning himself to the blissful ignorance of being a man.

Erik sipped his coffee in quiet contemplation of the young woman, when he felt a gentle hand slip over his shoulder. He smiled, "I'm glad you're back, it's almost time to d-"

"Dance?"

Erik looked up, startled to find not Christine, but Adele staring down at him. She smiled, and moved to take Christine's empty chair. "That's Christine's chair, she's coming back," he said, feeling slightly dazed.

Adele quirked her brow, "Don't have a coronary Erik, I won't be in your hair for long."

"How have you been?" He asked her, regaining himself. Truly, she looked wonderful in a dress of deep blue- it leant a startling contrast to her red hair and jade eyes. The woman was beautiful, and though Erik remembered how he had found her lively and wonderful in their time together, he just hadn't been able to love her the way she deserved.

She smiled at him, "I've been fine. You've obviously done well for yourself. She's adorable, but why you allow her to work that club I have no idea. You, being the jealous, possessive man you are, it's beyond insane. Hell, I remember when if another man even looked at me, you'd hit the roof!"

Erik tensed, grabbing her wrist, "Lower your damn voice, Adele! Our relationship is none of your business, and how did you find out about her…_occupation_ in the first place?" He demanded, sneering at his own polite wording. His grip on her wrist tightened.

Adele rolled her eyes, "Relax, Erik. You think I'm here to play the part of the jealous ex, hell-bent on revenge? Please, we're all adults here." She drawled. "I would never stoop so low as to go around spreading the news to ruin things between the two of you. It's a little melodramatic, not to mention pathetic." She put her hand over his, "You know me better than that, don't you?" Her jade eyes were honest, imploring.

Reluctantly, Erik nodded, and withdrew his hand from hers. "You're right. I do know you better. Adele, you are the model of nobility."

She smiled again, slightly sad this time. "Thank you, it's too bad you were such a fool and let me go,"

Erik laughed, "Yes, but where I was a fool, another man, a much better man than me, will not make the same mistake."

She laughed with him, "You're damned right about that! Now, her secret is safe with me, and I'm positive that Claudette won't breathe a word to anyone else. Sisters tell secrets, Erik, but only to each other."

He raised his brows, "_Claudette_ told you?"

"Yes, after _you_ told her. No worries, now, we're not interested in spreading gossip. I only saw her that one night, opening performance of your opera. It doesn't take a psychic to see that you're crazy about the girl, Erik, but just because you like her, that doesn't mean I have to like her too. I still care about you, and I just want you to be…_careful_, that's all."

"Oh, Adele. Nice to see you again,"

Both Adele and Erik looked up to see Christine standing before them, looking none too pleased at seeing them together.

Adele gave Christine a tight smile. "Hello Christine. Sorry I stole your seat, James was just about to take me onto the floor. My sister Claudette told me you were quite a talented little dancer." She said, deliberately hinting at the truth.

Christine nodded, her stance becoming slightly rigid with stifled anger. She reached forward and took claim over Erik's arm. "We're going to the dance floor too. Keep up if you can, you might even learn something."

Erik did not resist as Christine led him toward the floor.

He tried not to laugh at Christine's first showing of animosity- it was amusing to him, in a way, as if she was a kitten unsheathing her claws for the first time. The rigidity abated from her somewhat, though tension was knotted in her brow.

"Should I be ready to break up a catfight on the dance floor?" Erik asked her.

Christine turned to him, a strange expression of worry over her face. "Erik, she knows about what I do. I shouldn't have reacted that way towards her, she could tell your friends, she might-"

"Christine, Adele won't do anything, I promise you. We've already discussed it, and in any case, I don't care who knows. This isn't by your choice, and it won't go on for much longer. You're with me now, that's all that matters." He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and brushed a swift kiss to her lips.

Christine blushed as she glanced around and saw that there were several witnesses to their kiss.

Erik took her hand and led her to the dance floor as the band was just setting up for a new song. Christine's pulse quickened as she recognized the rhythm for Argentine tango. It was by no means an easy dance- in fact it was renown for it's precision, complication, and passion.

A flutter of nerves welled in her chest- the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Erik in front of his friends. She started as Erik took her hand and confidently led her onto the floor, drawing her to him and whipping her into a turn, dipping her backwards. Erik brought her up to face him.

Her expression was thrilled and astonished. "Erik, you lied to me!"

He laughed and stole a kiss, twisting and turning with her in perfect time to the music. "Yes, I did. Are you going to hold it against me?"

Christine sent him a mocking glare as he moved behind her, molding their bodies together. "No. Besides, _you're_ the one holding _it_ against me!" She whispered to him, nipping his earlobe playfully before moving away into another step.

Erik groaned subtly, embarrassed that she'd been able to feel his response to her. She was teasing him, playing at being the seductress- it was the music, the atmosphere, the wine, the jealousy of seeing him with Adele. This wasn't his usual Christine, Erik recognized the change in her and knew it wouldn't last, but Erik couldn't complain about her sensual advances.

Tango was a dance of passion, possession, anger, jealousy, desire- every sense was heightened, every emotion between them brought to the surface. Christine flashed her eyes at Erik as their steps matched in perfect unity- she had never dreamed he could be more wonderful than he already was, but to learn that he could dance in addition to everything else…

His hands slid down her body, playing the part of the jealous lover. He touched her, he turned her. When their bodies were locked together he stole quick kisses to her cheek or shoulder; when they were further apart his eyes roared his desire to her.

Christine felt her heart pounding in her chest, swelling with the intense pace of the music.

All at once it was over- the music swept into a clean ending just as Erik and Christine completed the final step of their dance. He was holding her, they were both breathing hard. The primal intent in his eyes burned through her, and Erik leaned forward to take her lips with his.

_He wanted her._

"Tonight, Christine."


	26. No Holding Back Now

Erik plowed through the front door of his loft, Christine shrieking in laughter as he swung her over his shoulder, carrying her through the apartment. None who knew him would recognize the caveman she had turned him into- Erik wasn't his usual self when he was with Christine; he felt wild, out of control.

He loved it.

Caught in madness, but still holding his bearings, Erik kicked the door shut behind him and strode towards his bedroom with one intention in mind.

He could hear the pups barking from inside the guest room as they passed the door, but Erik ignored them completely.

_No interruptions, no holding back. _

Distantly, he reminded himself that it would be, essentially, Christine's first time to make love with a man. A silent promise was made to himself that when he coupled with her, he would be gentle. He would have her enjoy every moment of tonight- their foreplay could be endless, rough, teasing, but the moment of joining…Erik would not hurt her for the world.

He kicked in his bedroom door and kicked it shut behind him again, determined to impress and pleasure her beyond anything she had ever known. This wasn't some sloppy rutting in the backseat of the car, and he certainly wasn't in this just for the sex.

It had been months since he'd had a woman, and weeks since he'd met Christine.

He loved her for what she was to him; he wanted to do it right.

Playfully, he swung the giggling woman off his shoulder to lay her down on his bed. He stood over Christine for a moment, absorbing the sight of her in the scarlet gown, barefoot, her hair tumbled around her face in a golden halo.

Beautiful was an easy, overused word.

This creature on his bed was _transcendent_.

Giving way to his own primal excitement, Erik moved down to her, spanning his hand flat over her stomach. He could feel the muscles of her tummy tighten and quiver beneath his touch. He took her hands and pinned them to the mattress above her head. She was vulnerable now, submissive but never helpless.

Christine still had the power to stop him whenever she chose.

His mouth and eyes watered at the sight of her; she looked up at him, hungry and unsure. Erik kissed her deeply, slowly, in a desperate attempt to soothe her and calm himself down. As much as he wanted to, Erik could not attack her like a sex-crazed animal- it would terrify her.

Tonight he had to be gentle, he had to be slow.

Calming only slightly, Erik moved his hand up from her stomach, trailing higher to graze lightly over a breast. Her head fell back as he pressed his lips to her throat; she tasted like wild honey, her scent dazed him.

A surge of heavy emotion robbed him of his senses for a moment, though Erik tried to ignore it. Tonight wasn't about him or how he felt anymore.

_This is for her, only for Christine…_

He cupped her breast and felt it come awake beneath his fingers. His hand did not linger, though Christine's had broken free of his hold and she speared her fingers through his hair, pulling him down to her for another kiss.

She came alive in his arms then, and pulled him fully atop her. Christine's lips nipped and kissed at his throat, while her hands lifted the mask from his face and carelessly tossed it aside. She moved against him clumsily, which was as exciting to Erik as much as it was a reminder that she was gauche.

They were both still fully clothed- Erik loved her gown but it was an impediment to her lithe body. He had seen her naked before, only briefly, he wanted to see her again. Deftly, he found the zip of her dress, and made short work of disrobing her down to a lacy pair of panties.

Erik thrashed out of his own shirt and suit jacket, greatly aided by Christine's hungry, seeking hands. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed and she moved to stand before him. For a moment they paused long enough to get a hold on their passion. Erik took her hands in his and kissed her wrists, trying to calm down long enough to tell her, "If you want me to stop, please tell me now, Christine."

She looked down at him, sitting before her, bare-chested and breathing hard from the painful ache of desire. It was unbelievable to Christine that Erik could want her for anything but sex- when they had met, she had wanted to believe the worst of him, but Erik had proved himself time and again to be nothing short of her champion.

Christine realized that now, without the music of the dance floor, without the wine or any other distraction- now that it was just the two of them, alone in his bedroom, Christine wanted nothing more than to make love to him, with him, make herself his and his alone…

_I love you…_

Christine leaned down and kissed his scarred cheek. Then, just because she liked to surprise him, she quickly pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him. She bent her head to kiss him deeply, allowing her hair to spill around their faces, a safe curtain of gold. He pushed her hair back, and they both laughed, playful, teasing.

"You little minx," Erik breathed against her neck.

Christine threw her head back and laughed as Erik rolled her onto her back. "Oh, I'm a minx? I hope that's a compliment!"

She heard a zip, and glanced over to find that Erik had slipped off his pants and was now clad only in his boxers. They were both topless now, intent to explore. Christine moved atop him again, straddling his lap, pressing her hands against his chest. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, hard and insistent. She was nervous, but not afraid. Christine smiled down at him when she felt his hands at her thighs.

Erik held back the groan building in his throat as he watched her eyes and felt her hands on his chest. He'd had women atop him before, riding him, but none like Christine. She was exploring his exposed skin, grazing her fingertips over the muscled planes of his shoulders, chest and stomach. The girl, now woman, had never been intimate with a man before. His hands did not remain limp on the sheets, but reached forward to stroke the smooth thighs spread over his lap.

Her hands stilled and her eyes slipped closed as Erik cupped her backside and hips, stroking her, holding her. He moved to sit up and kissed her. Tenderly at first, but their passion was quickly overcoming their senses. Erik touched her cheeks, her hair and neck, her back, her waist.

Christine bit his lip and bumped his nose as she moved to kiss his neck. Erik would have laughed at her but he didn't want to offend. Her passion and willingness more than made up for her obvious lack of experience.

She had _no_ experience- Erik was her first. He knew this, and he endeavored to be everything for her. He would be her lover now in addition to her friend, teacher and savior.

Erik pressed her forward and slipped his fingers into the band of her lace underwear. He liked them, the intricate design, the contrast against her golden skin. Erik liked them, but he did not hesitate in slipping them off her hips and down her legs. His own boxers soon joined hers on the floor beside the bed.

Naked now, they both lay in his bed, flesh to flesh.

His hand stroked up her leg; past the calf, kneecap and inner thigh. Christine gasped and clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, all from his touch. He touched her again, again, again, until she cried out and shook in his arms.

Erik kissed her, calmed her until he could feel her relax again. Her eyes were dazed, cloudy with desire. For him. No one else. He kissed her neck and stroked her fragrant hair. He could feel her hands on his back, exploring him and readying herself.

It was close, the moment was coming. Erik's room was dark, Christine was grateful that the only light in the room was coming in from the window. She could feel his arousal against her, but she could not see him- she didn't want to see him, her stomach was already tensing with anxiety.

She must have done something, pulled away a little or maybe even pushed him back, but Erik was alert to her tension. He stopped and cupped her face, he was breathing hard and his voice was hoarse, but steady. "Christine? It's not too late. If- if you want me to stop…"

She put her hand to his scarred cheek. "No, I don't want to stop, but Erik I'm just so worried," she confided to him. She felt foolish and defective to still be reserved with this man she loved.

His eyes shined with concern. He pressed his forehead to hers, kissing her throat, the pulse point of her neck. "Don't be worried, Christine. Don't be afraid. I love you, I won't hurt you…"

There was a silence, nearly deafening as she absorbed the words that Erik hadn't meant to dare speak out loud. He didn't move, shocked as he was at the secret he'd let slip. He felt terrified of what she would do, what she might say…

But Christine didn't say anything.

Christine kissed Erik, pulling him in closer to her. There was a bit of confidence that had been hiding within, Erik's words had been what she needed to overcome her last reservation.

_He loves me. He loves me!_

She kissed him, her smile lighting the room. His girl, his Christine. She spread her legs further, moving them to wrap around his hips. Years of dancing and running track had endowed her with lithe, strong muscles. The delicacy of a ballerina was all an illusion. Christine was strong, stronger than Erik expected. He loved it.

It happened slowly, even though their hearts were pounding, thundering throughout their bodies. Christine's lips formed his silent name. Erik leaned down to her, kissing her pliant mouth. He pressed forward. She moved. Moved again, telling him there was no turning back. In one quick motion, they were joined fully. Christine gasped, cried out; her eyes widened, filled with tears. Erik forced himself to stay still, waiting, watching her face.

_There._

Pain. Pleasure.

She smiled.

_Complete._

* * *

Erik held Christine against him as she slept. He had tried to sleep after it was over, but he'd found it impossible. Sleep? How could he sleep? 

He'd made Christine his in the most basic sense.

Physically, mentally, in the soul, she was his. His to provide for, his to protect.

Erik stroked Christine's back as he looked up at the ceiling and out the window of his bedroom. In only a few more hours it would be Sunday. Christine would not be able to spend the entire day with him- she had to go see that friend of hers, that Raoul de Chagny. They were to go to lunch and then meet up with him at the opera later in the day.

Then, Monday would come.

Erik would return to his various occupations and Christine would have to go back to the club. Time was slipping away from them, all the more reason for Erik to put his own plans into action. He would do something- _anything!-_ to get her as far away from that club as he could, he had to get her away from the entire lifestyle it represented.

Intrigues for Erik were few and far between. There had been a few occasions when he had had no other choice but to go outside of the law to accomplish some task, or to best a rival. He's never done anything that would truly endanger anyone; he'd been more mischievous than anything else. More like pulling elaborate pranks than playing puppet master with the lives of others.

This situation was worlds away from anything he'd done in the past, but to end Christine's suffering on the stage, Erik would do what it took. He wanted her in school at Columbia, in the studios of Manhattan Ballet, onstage at the Met, anywhere but in that club, degrading herself night after night...

One of Erik's favorite animals was the scorpion. Not the most attractive of creatures, certainly not one that would inspire artists. Nearly blind, clumsy, but like all things, the scorpion had its own special talents. Luring its prey down to its den, striking without preamble, the scorpion was a deadly, efficient killer.

Christine shifted against him, turning his thoughts away from vigilante scorpions and turning them back toward the beauty of the young woman he loved.

_He loved her._

Erik had told Christine he loved her and she hadn't said it back.

He didn't want to spend any time agonizing over it- if she loved him, she might say it later; if she didn't, that could come in time. Truly, the words weren't important to him. Rome wasn't built in a day; Erik didn't expect their future to be built in a night. However, Erik would not hesitate to say that they had a wonderful starting foundation.

They were mentally and physically compatible. Erik felt confident that once Christine was removed from the club, there would be nothing to stand between them.

Was he being arrogant? He didn't know anymore.

She moved against him again, reminding him what he was fighting for.

_Christine deserves the world, and by God, I'll give her everything…_

* * *

Sunlight burned in his eyes as Erik blinked himself into alertness. He opened his eyes fully and turned to the wonderful, warm thing that was stretched out alongside him in the bed. 

Christine was there with him, naked, her skin burning against his.

Between her body heat and the warmth of his eiderdown covers, it was almost uncomfortable.

Almost.

Erik stretch a little, his hand stroking Christine as he would a favored pet. His fingertips tingled over the nape of her neck, down her back and waist. He allowed his hand to rest over the curve of her backside. He smiled. She was a perfect fit. Everything about her was perfect.

He brought his lips close to her ear. "Christine, wake up,"

She stretched against him, feeling a sudden soreness in her body she'd only felt once before. The pain brought her alert. Erik watched as she blinked rapidly, until the blue pearls shifted and focused in on him. "Erik,"

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

He was concerned, and she knew why. Christine turned away slightly, embarrassed, resting her cheek on his chest. "No, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me."

She felt Erik laugh beneath her. "Liar."

"You caught me. It did hurt, but it's all right." She touched his face, tracing his main scar with her fingertips. "It was worth it."

He laughed again, bringing his arms around her waist and rolling her beneath him, "You're blushing,"

She laughed and planted a kiss on the pulse point of his neck. "It's a delicate subject, Erik. I promise you, I feel fine. Better than just fine, actually. I feel like…a whole new woman."

Erik kissed her cheek and idly cupped a breast. It was a possessive, affectionate gesture. Christine lifted her face to his and kissed him. He lowered his head and kissed the breast he'd been stroking. "Not a completely new woman, I hope? The old Christine suited me just fine."

She shivered slightly as Erik's fingertips danced over her belly. Her muscles quivered as his hand moved lower, lower…

His hand stopped and laid flat over her womb. He looked down at her, both sly and adoring. "As much as I want you, I won't take you now. Not until you've had a little time to recover. I don't want to hurt you again."

She put her hand over his, "But Erik-"

"Besides, Christine, if we started up with that again, you'd never make it to your lunch on time." He purred against her neck.

Christine's eyes widened. "Oh, God, Raoul! I forgot all about him,"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't mentioned another man's name when you're in bed with me again, especially when we're both naked," Erik groused as he rolled onto his back, away from her.

Christine playfully swatted his shoulder. "Sorry, boss. What time is it?"

Erik caught her hand and brought it to lie over his heart. It beat strong and steady beneath her hand. "We have just enough time to get dressed and walk the dogs."

She speared her fingers into her hair, "God, I forgot about them too!"

Erik sat up, the covers settling over his lap. He put a hand to her forehead. "Are you feeling all right? Amnesia is highly unusual for someone your age."

She pushed his hand away and batted her eyes. "Maybe when I'm with you, I just forget everything else that's around us."

That she could be playful and even flirtatious after everything they'd shared in the night was truly remarkable to him. She was young, strong, and golden.

_This is my woman_.

Her hair was rumpled and her face was slightly shiny, the carefully applied makeup from the night before was ruined. He felt the familiar sense of masculine pride that he had successfully seduced and bedded her.

_Bedded her well, by the look of things_, he mused.

He glanced toward the window. It wasn't snowing anymore, thankfully, but he had no doubt it was still bitterly cold outside. "We should take a shower, Christine."

"Together?"

He looked back at her. "If you like."

She smiled, "You know I would like."

Erik smiled back at her, "Well then, shall we?"

Before Christine could react, Erik had scooped her up with the bedsheet and moved toward his bathroom. "Erik, put me down!" She laughed. Erik complied, setting her on her feet. She wrapped the sheet closely around her and looked at the décor of his bathroom.

She wasn't surprised to see that it was as basic and tidy as the rest of his loft. The sink and counters were black marble with gold veining, as was a massive bathtub and the floor of the shower stall.

Erik tickled her waist as he pulled the sheet from her body and turned the faucet of the shower. Laughing and playful, he backed her into the shower, pressing her to the wall. The heat of the water over her body and the sudden chill of the tiles at her back raised wave after wave of gooseflesh on her skin.

She shivered at his touch, his kiss.

Christine felt him nudge against her, and she broke away to stare at him. She knew what a man looked like naked, of course, but she had rarely seen the real thing. She had never seen Erik- even the night before, she had felt him against her, within her, but she hadn't actually seen-

"Staring is rude, you know,"

Her eyes snapped up to meet Erik's mocking gaze, and he watched in delight as she blushed once more. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…God, you must think I'm such a pervert!"

Erik laughed and brought her closer, to make her feel the effect she had on him. "Not a pervert, there's nothing wrong with you for being…curious. I understand what last night meant to you." He said, pressing his forehead to hers.

He moved against her slightly, but he wasn't pushing her for more love; he only needed to assuage the ache for a moment. Christine parted her legs, allowing him to touch where she was softest, where he wanted to be.

Their breathing was becoming labored, but Erik pulled away. "I meant what I said earlier," he said as he retrieved a washcloth from a tiled shelf. "You're still sore, and I would only hurt you more if I took you now."

Christine laughed through the water as her hair clung to her head and back. She pouted at him and reached for his hands, "If you _took me?" _She mocked. "My life has become a romance novel- I'm a mistress to a wealthy, brooding man with a dark past who refuses to 'take me' even though we both know that's what you really want." She said pointedly, teasing him.

Erik smiled and raised a hand to his scars. "Romance novel soon to be a police thriller," he muttered. With the shower going, Christine didn't hear his remark. He raised his eyes to hers. "If we keep this up, we'll never leave the shower."

She giggled as Erik pressed the washcloth to her body, bathing her. The scent of his soap, the feel of his hands on her body was incredible. He washed her carefully before turning her and washing himself. Erik reached past her and turned the faucet, ceasing the water flow.

They stepped out of the shower and Erik wrapped a towel over her shoulders, taking one for himself and securing it about his waist. "We need to get dressed, Christine. The dogs need to get out."

She nodded, "Can I show you something before we step out?"

Erik stroked her back, curious. "Of course. It's nothing earth-shattering, is it?"

"No, just something I want to share with you. Come to my room when you're done getting dressed, and I'll show you."

He watched as Christine stepped into the hallway and then into the guestroom. Erik nodded to himself and then moved toward his closet.

* * *

Erik stood outside of Christine's room, formerly his guestroom, listening to her coo to the puppies. She had such a nurturing, protective side; it was something rarely seen in her or any of the other women he knew. Christine was too young to know it yet, but she would make a wonderful mother someday. 

Erik shook his head and stepped into the doorway. "Well, Christine? You said you wanted to show me something."

She had been cuddling with King on her bed, and set the larger pup on the floor. The dark animal approached Erik, lumbering slightly- still so young, but the pup was already nearly twice the size of Snow, who was playing with a dog chew on the floor.

Erik kneeled down to stroke King behind the ears, and he watched as Christine unzipped a small duffel bag. She retrieved a pair of plain satin ballet slippers. "These were the toe-shoes that I wore on the day I auditioned for Manhattan Ballet. Whenever things were rough at home…rougher than usual, I should say, I would take them out to remind me of how perfect things were when I danced on that stage."

She held the shoes in her hands as if they'd been molded from pure gold.

Erik was quiet as he watched her stare at the shoes, and the memory they held for her.

Christine continued, "After everything fell apart, I just couldn't look at them. It actually hurt to think about that day, because it was the best I'd ever had. I love dancing, Erik, I love dancing the way that you love your music. Do you remember what you first told me about music? You said it moved something inside of you, and that's exactly how I feel when I dance."

Erik knelt down before her and she allowed him to take one of the slippers. He fingered the simple white ribbon and looked up at her, "Your leg…will you ever be able to dance again?"

She nodded and touched his face lightly before she reached forward and brought her arms around him. Her cheek was smooth against his. "Yes. I'm fine for dancing. It doesn't matter anymore. I just wanted you to know that for the first time in a year, I'm actually happy- so happy that I don't even need to think about that day anymore because I have you now, and I'll always have last night."

Erik placed the shoes aside and kissed her. "You'll always have me, Christine."

He rested his hands on her knees and then took her hands, pulling her to stand with him. He touched her hair in a loving way, "I…you're wonderful,"

Christine smiled, and handed him King's leash. "Maybe we're just wonderful together, Erik."

Helpless to resist her, he could only agree.


	27. Erik's Idea

Christine and Erik parted ways early in the afternoon; she to meet her friend for lunch and he to go in to rehearse at the opera. He felt himself slipping into the haze of love. He'd adored Christine before, but now he'd made her his and couldn't keep her far from his mind. Why bother to deny what he already knew? He loved the girl, she was everything he could want in a mistress or mate.

The thought was rattling.

He greeted a few musicians and a set of dancers as he swept through the auditorium and up to his office, feeling lighthearted and ready to create beauty in sound. Christine would be there to see him in a short amount of time, and he wanted to make sure he impressed her.

Eri settled into an office chair and set out a few music sheets on the low table, in preparation for the night. He found an aria that hadn't been looked over for a few weeks.

_This would be a good warm-up piece, just to wake everyone up. Maybe just a short run through-_

"So I take it you took the latest girl to bed. How was it?"

Erik glanced over the top of his aria sheet to frown at Jaslene, a principal in all his operas for the past few years. The woman was beautiful; a deep bronze complexion topped by jet-black braids, she was by far the most exotic performer in his company, even if not the most talented. She could sing, no one could deny her that, but in all honesty Erik had often considered releasing her from her contract.

At her statement, he considered it again.

"Excuse me?"

The woman playfully flopped into the chair across from his. Erik liked Jaslene well enough, but he didn't appreciate her uninvited strut into his office or her presumption about his social life. He hadn't told anyone, it wasn't his style to brag about his exploits, so how had she figured it out?

Jazz rolled her eyes at him, "What am I, blind? You've been smiling since you came in, and besides that, I was at _Denver's_ last night. Hell, you got me hot with that tango and I was way on the other side of the floor!"

Erik felt heat creep into his cheeks and stood from his chair. Shifting his weight, he spoke, "It's none of your business, Jazz. Honestly, you're like a high school gossip."

She stretched in her seat, languid and unconcerned as an overfed cat. "Don't be so shy, maestro. We're all grown-ups here, and everyone knows that it's good for a man to relieve some tension every once in a while. Frankly, I'm glad that you've finally gotten some- I could tell you've been wound a little too tight lately."

Erik snapped at her, "You're fired, get out of my office!"

"You've fired me every two weeks for years already- find some new material," she groused as she stood and headed towards the door.

Erik shook his head and tried to smother the smile he could feel fighting it's way into his expression. He looked at the clock and thought of Christine. She would be there with him soon. She would see him here, in command, directing the production, truly in his element.

Damned if he wouldn't impress her.

* * *

Christine had agreed to see Raoul for lunch on Sunday; she had been in the city longer than he had, and had chosen the restaurant where they would meet. It was a casual place that served the uncomplicated food they'd so often indulged while together in Miami.

She felt relieved that she hadn't needed to dress up or worry over selecting a wine for the meal with Raoul as she did with Erik; he had never been a finicky eater, and was comfortable in most any setting.

He had arrived shortly before her, and stood from the table to greet her at the door. Christine paused in removing her coat as she watched him approach her. Raoul was dressed in a pair of worn, dark jeans, tennis shoes and a white sweater. He had always been handsome, but their time apart had given him opportunity to shed his boyish charm, replacing it with that of a man.

It was strange to look at him now; it made her wonder if there was any visible change in her own appearance.

Raoul stepped forward and smiled, pulling her into his arms for a hug. "Christine, it's great to see you again."

He smelled of fresh grass and clean laundry, a scent she'd always relished on him.

He released her and Christine took off her coat to reveal a ruby sweater set and warm khaki corduroys. Together, they looked like a typical pair of college students and Raoul, in his usual way, didn't hesitate to comment on it. "Look at us, we're the poster kids for _American Eagle_," he joked as he led her to the table he'd chosen.

She felt more relaxed already; she'd been worried that he would use their lunch as a way to ask more and more questions about what had happened to her. Christine was firm that not only wasn't it his business, but she wanted to leave it all in the past. "Better _American_ _Eagle_ than _Hot Topic_," she said, "Speaking of which, how's the youngest Weird Sister? Still gothic?"

The de Chagnys had been a family to her, and she deeply missed Raoul's sisters- the triplets had been the closest thing to siblings she had ever known.

Raoul smiled fondly, "Katie's doing fine- they all are, actually. She gave up the goth phase when my parents moved them here, thank God. Apparently Manhattan Elite is very strict in its dress code that none of its students are allowed to dress like angsty vampires."

Christine laughed, "I'm sure she was very disappointed."

After they put in their orders, Raoul shrugged, "Well, she stayed in her room for a few days, playing death metal music at top volume and she e-mailed me a few whiny poems about the 'fascist institution' of private school. Then, when I next saw her, she looked like a preppy girl on her way to tennis practice."

Christine raised her brows, "The quick-change artist."

He nodded, "They all are. For a while they played the switch game and went to each other's classes. When my parents found out, they made them dye their hair so we could tell them apart. Philippe's nickname was the inspiration behind that whole idea."

"They've dyed their hair?" The idea was strange to her, as she remembered Raoul's sisters being very protective of the long golden hair they all shared. Vain teenagers they were, but never unkind. "Do I have to ask?"

"Katie is a lovely chocolate brunette; Tessa is a fiery redhead, if you'll excuse the cliché, and Heather is now a platinum blonde. It took a full day at the salon and over $1,000 to achieve this aim, but my mother was determined to keep them from using their switch tricks at the new school."

Christine's eyes had widened considerably, "I am shocked. I can't even picture them looking so different!"

"Well, you don't have to picture them. When are you free again? Come to the new family house for Christmas, it's only a short time away now and you know we'd love to have you."

Raoul's invitation startled her.

_Christmas is close, so soon? I haven't been paying attention to anything…last year spent with them was so wonderful…_

_Erik._

Raoul watched closely as the wheels turned in Christine's head. He could see her remembering, considering and hesitating. He had expected as much. He continued, "You can bring the guy you're staying with, if you want. It is Christmas, the more the merrier." He reassured her.

She smirked, "It's killing you to say that, isn't it?"

He sighed and took a sip of his Coke. "All right. Maybe it is, just a little. Can you blame me? I'm curious about what kind of man would let his girlfriend…unless he doesn't even know what you do?" He pressed.

Christine shook her head and touched her hair. "No, he knows. I can't really explain it- he hates me dancing just as much, well, he hates it more than you ever could. I'm doing this to protect him. It's kind of involved, Raoul. It's like something out of a thriller- drugs, undercover work, threats around every corner."

He appeared puzzled, and with good reason. Christine was deliberately hinting at the situation, but being intentionally vague. She wanted to tell him but at the same time, she knew that she couldn't let him know everything.

"Don't worry, Raoul. I'll be out of there soon, and I'll never go back. Even if I wanted to, Erik would kill me just for considering it," she joked.

Raoul frowned. "And Erik is the guy you're with?"

She nodded, suddenly smiling with love. "Yes. Erik Latour. He's wonderful,"

"I know who that is! He's an architectural consult for the city, I don't believe this! He gave a lecture at my university a few months ago, just before I got my degree." Raoul couldn't help but to laugh at the craziness of it all. Here, the best friend he'd ever had was shacking up with a man whose work he had admired for years.

_Crazy world, none of it will ever make any sense to me!_

Christine shared a laugh with him before she bit into her burger. Raoul shook his head, still laughing slightly before turning their conversation away from the stripper stage and Christine's past. Leave it all in the past, that seemed the best idea.

She said that her time at the club would soon come to an end and that she would never go back, and what's more, that Erik would never allow her to return. So be it, Raoul only want to know that Christine was safe and happy.

That's all he'd ever wanted.

* * *

The restaurant had seen a slow mid-day; barely half the tables were seated while Raoul and Christine had enjoyed their lunch. In the relative privacy of the place, they were unbothered while reminiscing. She enjoyed it very much; somehow, she had forgotten what a wonderful friend Raoul could be.

So warm and safe- in a strange way, he reminded her of Erik's gentler side.

When Erik would remove his armor, his tailor-cut suit and scowling mask, when he was just a man that wanted to hold her, when he was just like anyone else.

The air outside was snapping cold, the wind nearly painful as it blew against their faces on the walk towards the Metropolitan Opera. Both Christine and Raoul pulled their coats more tightly against their bodies to stave off the chill; it wasn't entirely useless to do so.

"Almost enough to make you wish you were in Miami again," Raoul said offhandedly.

Christine grimaced at his poor expression. "Um, yeah, almost," she agreed. "I'd take the beach over this blizzard any day of the week!"

Raoul nodded beside her and they continued to walk.

Once they'd finally made it to the opera, they were exhausted. Fighting against the wind on a ten-block walk through the congested city had been more than a challenge. At times Christine could have sworn she'd been in a fight for her life.

They had stopped for coffee simply to recharge their expelled energy, but their drinks had already gone cold in the December chill from outside. Christine collapsed onto a visitor bench in the grand lobby, grateful for a reprieve from the cold. Raoul took her cup with his and tossed them both into a nearby trashcan before turning to her.

"Well, now that we've braved the Arctic," he laughed, "Where do we go from here?"

Christine blinked and glanced around the lobby. It appeared that they were alone at the moment, but she knew that she would find Erik somewhere within the grand space of the New York opera hall.

This was his life.

She stood up and shrugged, almost playfully. "He's around somewhere, but if I had to bet, I'd say he's probably in the auditorium." She smiled at Raoul, "He took me to a real production, it was opening night. Amazing, really."

Raoul didn't have to ask much about her experience- ballet, theater, opera, those had been the things Christine had loved most when he'd first met her. She'd loved dancing more than he'd ever loved anything in all of his twenty-four years and he had envied her that. He had bought tickets to a ballet for her birthday, but she had disappeared before he'd had the chance to surprise her.

Christine led the way towards a set of double doors. Looking closer, Raoul saw a small, hand-written sign on the door. Whoever wrote it, their penmanship was terrible and he struggled to read out, "Rehearsal in session."

Christine shrugged, "I think we can go ahead in, I mean, I am dating the boss."

He laughed and together, they pulled open the doors. An explosion of sound met their ears, all music and lyrics thundering out into the lobby. Abruptly, just as quick as it had pounded their ears, the music stopped. Christine stepped into the theater and took Raoul's hand in hers to draw him in beside her. Together, they strode down the center aisle, headed for the stage.

They were greeted with a chorus of, "Hey, can't you see we're rehearsing?" "There was a sign on the door!" and "Get out of here, we're working!"

The performers on stage and the orchestra alike were obviously irritated at the interruption but were just as quickly silenced by Erik's command.

He stood from the audience chair where he'd been mulling over a section of woodwind sound, and fixed a glare on the entire company. "Compose yourselves. These are my guests and you will show some respect."

Everyone at least had the sense to obey as Erik turned to approach them. His eyes were affixed to Christine alone, she had never been far from his thoughts that day and he hoped it had been the same for her.

Was he vain to hope she'd been thinking of him?

Perhaps, but he didn't care.

He held out his hands to her and was gratified when she slipped her own hands into his and then kissed him. It was brief, a kiss in greeting, but he felt enthralled by her, by her every touch and glance. He took nothing for granted when it came to Christine.

"Christine," Erik greeted. "I'm glad you came here today," he said, kissing her cheek for good measure.

She smiled brightly, playful and gorgeous. "Where else would I go? Now, let me introduce you."

He had nearly forgotten about the young man she'd entered with, and Erik glanced up to assess her friend. The man was dressed casually and appeared to have an easygoing way about him; Erik wasn't thrilled that the young man was handsome, but overall he didn't feel threatened by him.

_This is just Christine's friend, after all._

Erik stepped forward and shook his hand, "Good afternoon, I'm Erik Latour,"

"Yes sir, Raoul de Chagny. I actually attended one of your lectures in May,"

His eyebrows rose, "Truly? Christine, you've brought me a fan."

The slender blonde laughed, "I think it's safe to say we're both fans of yours,"

Her words carried a secret meaning between them, and Erik smiled slightly. He glanced up to see Jaslene on the stage, smirking at the quick exchange. Erik motioned them towards the audience chairs, "Please, have a seat. We're just doing a run through of the performance that will open next month."

Raoul took a seat as Christine did beside him and together, they watched as Erik walked about the stage, giving curt instructions to the cast and crew. She watched and listened intently, thrilled to see him in his element, commanding the lighting, the sound work and the choreography.

It was clear to all just who was in charge.

"I'm happy with the production as is, but I still feel like it could use something extra," Erik muttered to his choreographer, a stately woman who'd been a ballerina herself with the company for decades. He turned to where Christine and Raoul were still seated in the audience. "Christine? Could you come up here for a moment please?"

Shrugging, she ascended the stairs to the stage and smiled, "What's up, Erik?"

"What's up is that there is a dull part in the choreography and I'd like your help with it," he replied.

Christine blinked, "Oh, do you mean that transition from the second to the third movement?"

The choreographer, Theresa Girard, pursed her lips. Obviously she didn't appreciate her skills to be questioned by some young amateur.

Erik nodded, "Exactly, I knew you would catch on to it. Now, I want to run an idea by you, if you'll follow me to my office?"

Somewhat confused, she followed him backstage, down a hallway and up a flight of steps. He paused before a door and unlocked it, motioning for her to step inside first. "Erik, what have you got up your sleeve?" She asked as he followed her inside and switched on the overhead light.

He shrugged, and motioned to his desk. Christine turned to find her toe shoes and the standard warm-up outfit worn by the other ballerinas onstage. She stepped forward and stroked the ribbons of her shoes. "Erik, does this mean…?"

He moved behind her and brought his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck and held her to him. "I want to see you dance the way you love, the way you were born to dance. Please?" He asked. It had never occurred to him that she might refuse.

Christine turned in his arms and held him close. "Yes. Just let me change and I'll dance for you."

* * *

Christine took her place in line with the other dancers and as Erik and Raoul watched from the audience, she dominated the stage in a way she never had before. All rustiness was shed the instant she'd slipped into the shoes. Erik's eyes were dazzled as he watched her leap, turn and twist along with the other ballerinas.

He was impressed that she had remembered the choreography, but he had to remind himself that she'd been trained for years to capture such patterns, and thus be able to move through them at a moment's notice.

She was graceful, beautiful, dazzling.

Erik could feel himself falling in love all over again.

Beside him, Raoul felt the same way.


	28. Grace

**Christine**

* * *

My feet ached from the tight toe-shoes. Blisters opened. Muscles burned. 

The choreography pattern was in my mind. I leapt. I spun. I moved with the music, allowed it to become a living thing, a part of me. I danced, truly danced. My heart hammered, pulse raced.

Pain be damned.

It wasn't about me or her or the next girl. The music entered us, made us one. We were many, we were ballet. We moved as a single entity; graceful, powerful, beautiful. Possessed by the music, certainly, and more in love with it as we flew through the bars.

Every turn, every arc became a testament to the strength and love that the music evoked in us. We were moved; tapping, thrusting, leaping in perfect time until we were all of one mind.

How had I forgotten this? The unity with other dancers? The beauty of ballet, the thrill of performing?

The rehearsal ended. My musical trance ended.

I returned to the present; one moment in the glory of the dance, the next brought me back to reality.

Distantly, I heard Erik call out from the audience, "Dancers dismissed, enough rehearsal for today. We'll meet up tomorrow at the usual time,"

I was aware, but still slightly dazed from the mock performance. I filed out with the other ballerinas, off the stage and into a smaller practice studio. The other girls began to joke and tease each other and I could only stand in the doorway, watching them.

_I could have been a part of this..._

So beautiful we all were, but only when dancing. All dancers wake up in the morning as a normal young woman; we wake, we eat breakfast, we select our wardrobes and make plans for the day. A dancer is any face on the street until music sounds out, ringing through us, and we awaken from the everyday.

We count the beat, become familiar with the rhythm, we begin to move until everything falls away, until nothing matters but this, the music, the audience, the thrilling glory.

I moved down the hallway until I found the staircase that would lead up to Erik's office. My day clothes were there. I stepped inside and slipped the tight black tank top over my head, replacing it with my red sweater set from earlier in the day. The loose black pants were next, quickly shed and replaced by the corduroys. I saved my shoes for last.

Wincing and groaning, I pulled my bare foot free from first one, and then the other dance shoe. My toes had been pinched, and there was a blister on my left foot, so deep that it had started to bleed. It had been a year since I'd danced so long, pushing myself to perform as I once had. I took a test step, nearly limping, but like any other dancer, I had long ago learned how to ignore the pain.

I left the clothes in Erik's office and returned to the auditorium. It was crowded with musicians packing up, ready to leave for the day. A few of the other dancers waved to me as they stepped out, but I couldn't find Erik or Raoul.

A hurried looking trombone player hustled past me, followed by a few violinists, and then Erik came up the center aisle, right behind them. He moved to stand in front of me and smiled in his easy, soft way. The man had the brightest eyes I'd ever seen, and I hadn't told Erik this, but I was envious of those eyes. More than just his color, his eyes were so expressive.

His eyes told me everything.

Erik adored me, he loved me.

He told me last night, before I could tell him first. Erik told me that he loved me last night while we were making love in his bedroom. How had any of this happened? How had Erik and I come together, how could he love _me?_

It was all so surreal that any of this had happened to me that I often had to pinch myself to make sure I hadn't dreamed it all.

I felt his hand on my waist and a smile swept over my face at his simple touch.

"You were wonderful, Christine. Truly wonderful," he breathed against my ear. I shivered. Erik knew the effect he had on me, it was all a game between us.

I raised my arms and cupped his face, careful not to touch his mask. I don't know how many, or if any of his colleagues knew about his scars or the terrible story behind them. He was beautiful to me.

Erik had given me so much, more than I ever thought I could hope for. He had given me too much.

"Thank you for this, Erik. You didn't have to-"

"No, no, no," he interrupted. "I won't hear anymore of your nonsense. Please, no more of your 'You didn't have to do this Erik'. I wanted to do this because I knew that you were just what the dance needed. You were the…missing piece. It is complete now." He said, smiling and cupping my face.

Erik bent slightly to take my lips with his. His mouth was soft and warm, awakening the memories from the night before. I remembered his lips, his hands and body. The love we made had been…it is difficult to explain.

It had been wonderful, but painful. Awkward, yet perfect. When I had seen Erik, I hadn't been able to understand how a man and woman were able to fit together. His body, so different than a woman's, was strong and sure. He fascinates me, but the look in his eyes filled me with sudden intimidation.

Erik wanted to make love again, I knew it.

Would he hurt me as he had last night?

My stomach tensed at the thought, despite that I knew Erik had never meant to hurt me. It wasn't as if he could help it, anyway. Naiveté left me several years ago- I knew that my body wouldn't feel pain for long, that it would lessen each time we made love until there would be only bliss between us. I wanted nothing more than that, but I was no less worried about the pain I would undoubtedly feel with him again tonight.

Simply, being made love to was unfamiliar and a part of me was horrified at being held so vulnerable, almost resentful that as a man Erik was naturally stronger; he, the dominant, experienced male and me, his bumbling, damaged lover.

I detested my awkwardness; last night and this morning I had put on the front of being carefree, and although I truly was happy, I nevertheless felt monumentally inadequate.

The voice in the back of my mind is a pest, always baiting me.

_Erik deserves better. A sophisticated, pure woman. Why has he settled for an urchin like you?_

He'd said I was the missing piece just now, and his tone reminded me of how he'd said he loved me only hours ago, late last night. I prayed for his sincerity, that what he felt for me was real, even if it all ended tomorrow.

No one had said those words to me the way that he had. No one had made me _believe…_

* * *

**Erik**

She was tense, that was plain for all to see. I didn't know why she became so anxious, but I hoped to improve her mood once we returned to the loft. That this beautiful, golden dancer had given herself to me in the night, it had been wonderful for me, but Christine…

I'd hurt her. Tears had filled her eyes, her cry of pain still echoes in my mind even now. Self-loathing had filled me that, despite all my promises, I'd still hurt her, but I am determined to please her at every next opportunity. Admittedly, I have a strong, healthy appetite, and to me Christine is a feast. The only way to cement her trust in me, her love, was to help her understand that making love was different from simple sex.

Sex from her is the last thing I want- making love, however, I would happily sling her over my shoulder again and lock us both in my bedroom for the next month. I love her, she is so wonderful for me.

I took her hand into mine and together we headed for the lobby. Once out in the brighter, open space, her eyes darted to all of the faces in the crowd. "Where's Raoul?" She asked me.

I squeezed her hand to reassure, "He should be out here, I imagine he wants to sing your praises. We couldn't take our eyes off you while you were onstage."

The girl blushed and looked away, charmingly embarrassed, though I don't understand why. She has a gift, why not bask in the deserved compliments?

Modesty, perhaps.

I glanced up, "Oh, there he is," I said, nodding as Raoul approached us.

The younger man walked up, smiling. I admit that I'd felt a touch of uneasiness when Christine told me of her close friendship with him, but as he and I spoke while the dancers readied themselves onstage, I no longer felt threatened. The boy had intimated that as Christine's friend, he only hoped for her happiness. One thing we could both agree on, at least.

His handsomeness unnerved me a bit, naturally. Christine had proven herself to be unbothered by my scars, but all the same I didn't want her tempted by Raoul. It is only human to seek out pure, intact candidates for a mate. Perhaps we both need to learn what it is to truly trust in each other.

Raoul smiled and reached for Christine, pulling her to him for a hug, "You were fantastic! My God, I've never seen you dance like that before! Where did that come from?"

Christine laughed as he released her, "Well, it's always been there, just waiting to be let out,"

"I could tell. You were great, Christine, I really mean it." His eyes held nothing but warmth for her, something just a touch deeper than friendly affection.

I cleared my throat, "Do you live close, Raoul? I'd be happy to give you a lift,"

His eyes broke from her and turned to me. "What? Oh, no, that's all right. I'm crashing at my brother's apartment tonight, but we're all going to the family house outside of the city for Christmas."

_Christmas? _

I blinked and thought of the date. Yes, Raoul was correct. Christmas was close; had I been so distracted by Christine that I'd overlooked the holiday? I smiled to myself. The girl was the best distraction I could hope for.

Raoul glanced down to check his watch, "Oh, it's a lot later than I thought it was. Heather wanted to visit with me tonight," he muttered.

I raised a brow. _Heather?_

"Is Heather your girlfriend?" I asked. I felt Christine lightly squeeze my hand.

Raoul shook his head. "No, she's one of my sisters. I have three, and she's the oldest. Knowing her, she probably just wants me to do her homework for her!" He laughed.

Christine stepped forward and hugged him. She kissed his cheek. "It was great seeing you today, Raoul. I'll think about what you asked me earlier, too." She promised.

Raoul smiled and held her hand in both of his. "Thank you for that. I'm not the only one who wants to see you again, you know." He hinted, winking. Raoul then turned to me, and put his hand out; I shook it. "It was great to meet you in person, Erik. I hope we get to meet again."

I nodded back to him. "It was my pleasure, Raoul."

Once Raoul had turned and left the opera house lobby, Christine swatted my shoulder, her eyes flashing. I couldn't help laughing at her. "What's the matter?"

"You! You practically charged into the assumption that he had a girlfriend! You're jealous, Erik." She said. I could tell that she was amused, but fighting not to show it.

I shrugged. "Well, so what if I am? You're mine, but I can see that Raoul wishes it wasn't so."

Christine followed me through the building, towards the back where the staff parked. "No, Erik. You're wrong about Raoul. He doesn't want that from me."

I turned to her, bringing an arm about her waist. Teasingly, I kissed her neck. "Where is your woman's intuition, Christine? Raoul might not say so, or do anything overt, but I can tell that he isn't the only one who's jealous."

She brought her arms around me, "No, I don't want him to feel that way. We had our chance in Miami, and nothing happened. Besides, I found someone I love even more."

Christine said the words so casually, teasing, but I'd never taken the subject of love lightly. I leaned down to kiss her. There was a strange sensation in my chest, causing my pulse to race. I touched her cheek. "Christine, please don't toy with me now. Don't say the words if you don't mean them."

If she realized she'd made a mistake and took the words back, I felt I might die from her rejection.

Her hands smoothed over my shoulders and across my chest. "I do mean them, Erik. I really, truly do. I'm sorry; I'm just not…sometimes it's hard to express the way I feel…" She said, her cheeks flaming.

I brought her closer to me. "Don't apologize, Christine. I understand, and I admit that I can be the same way, on occasion." I kissed her cheek and stroked her arms. We were both so damaged, and yet so determined to heal. "Let's go home, eh? I want to talk, among other things…" I said, hinting.

She smiled awkwardly and swallowed before moving forward to follow me out of the opera house.


	29. Roadblocks

**Author's Note: Please forgive me for taking so long to update this! I've been going through a tough move, not to mention that I now share a computer and Internet connection, it's been tough finding time to myself to write to say the least! Never fear, I am not giving up on this story, not by a longshot- in fact I have another POTO story in the works, but that'll be posted a long time from now. **

**Anyway, please read, review and enjoy, and I'll do my best to have another chapter up within the week. Have a great weekend!**

* * *

It was later in the evening when Erik and Christine were ready and settled in for the night. There had been subtle, pleasant conversation during the ride back to the loft from his opera, as there had been when they'd taken the pups out to the park. Even with the dogs had taken the field, Erik and Christine remained in the same tentative pattern. 

No mention of love, or of making love again had taken place.

Erik wanted to speak with her; they had not discussed what had occurred between them with any semblance of seriousness. The morning after he had been concerned for her. Christine had been pained the night before, he was certain of it. He'd tried to be gentle, or as gentle as a man was capable of being, but he had seen the tears in her eyes, he'd heard her cry out and Erik was sure that his back was still marked by her nails gripping him so fiercely.

Christine was his, she had been from the moment she'd walked in his door.

She knew it, as did he. Erik watched as she cuddled Snow in her lap, the both of them curled on the sofa before the fire. Idly, he let his eyes absorb her. He wanted to make love again- how could he not, when Christine was such an amazing young woman? She was not the most beautiful of his mistresses, and certainly she was nowhere near the level of experience that he'd encountered in the past.

There was just something about Christine, some indefinable trait that held him captive and thirsting for more from her at every moment.

Christine could sense Erik's eyes on her, and she glanced up. "Well, are you going to stare all night or are you going to come sit with me?" She asked him, teasing as always.

Erik ticked his head slightly, blinking. "Sorry, love. I was miles away."

He strode across the room and sat down beside her, moving so that Christine could lean against his chest. She smiled at him, glorious. "Miles away? Was I with you?"

Erik nodded, smiling back to her. "Of course. No one but you and me…and the dogs, of course." He amended quickly, gesturing to Snow, sitting at the end of the couch, and King on the floor before them.

Christine moved closer. "And what were we doing?"

"We were down south. The Florida Keys, the Bahamas, the Virgin Islands. Anywhere where it's warm and there is a beach. The dogs were chasing the seagulls and playing in the waves while you and I were walking the shore." Erik rattled out smoothly, clutching her closer still.

Christine lifted her head slightly and brushed her lips to his neck. "And we're walking hand-in-hand, right?"

"Naturally," Erik purred.

"It's a lovely fantasy,"

"Who said anything about fantasy?" He asked. "Once all this is over, I had planned to take you somewhere anyway. I'm not sure where yet, just somewhere far from all of this."

Christine sat up to turn to him. "Erik, you can't be serious. Running away from New York won't solve anything-"

"And it also couldn't hurt. Christine, look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't want to just get away from everything for a time. To go away where no one knows us and we'd be free to be our true selves and simply be together. Personally, I see that as being a slice of heaven." Erik said, taking her hands and kissing her wrists.

"I don't want you to do that, Erik. Please. You…you said you loved me last night-"

He looked up. "And I meant it. I would not have said so if I hadn't meant it, I do love you Christine. I've known several women but none like you."

"I would hope not!" Christine said, standing from him. "I don't want you to have known anyone else like me- I'm sure one damaged charity case is enough, you don't need to start a collection!"

Frowning, Erik stood to face her. "Christine, calm down. I'd thought we've moved past all that. What will it take for you to see that this is real? That my feelings for you are real?"

Christine shook her head, protesting slightly but allowing Erik to take her into his arms. "I'm sorry Erik. You don't understand. I want to believe in you so much, but there's always this voice reminding me how different we are, and that you deserve someone more like you." She murmured into his neck as she held him closer, drawing him in for comfort.

Erik stroked her hair and smiled absently. "Someone like me? Oh, you mean someone slightly antisocial, highly possessive and private, physically scarred, mentally disturbed, and a workaholic that's become addicted to caffeine?"

He could feel Christine laughing silently against him.

He shook his head. "No, Christine. I don't want someone like me- in fact, in my case I think that only the opposite will do. You and I are about as mismatched as they come, and I know that you know it as well. You're much more suited to your friend from Miami."

Christine drew back from him, "You mean Raoul?"

"Yes."

"Erik, he's a friend and that's all. We never even went on a date when we knew each other back then, I promise you. It wasn't like I was some boy-crazy teenager when we first met; I think a part of me was using Raoul's feelings for me as a way to buy more time away from home." Christine confided in him.

"What do you mean?"

"Raoul's family has money, and even in high school and afterwards, he always had plenty of money in his pockets. I…I took advantage of that. I was always asking him to take me places, just so we wouldn't be so close to home. I felt bad about it and I still do, but maybe he understands it a little better now." She mused.

Erik drew back from her slightly and kissed her. "I know he does, Christine, and I'm sure he doesn't hold it against you. If anything, I'd bet that he wishes he could have taken you away to college with him when he left Miami…"

"And then none of it would have ever happened," Christine said, finishing Erik's thought for him. "Well. Maybe…I don't know. It's pointless to think about what might have happened. That was all last year, and I just want to move on with my life."

He nodded, and kissed her again. "Yes, I want that for you too. I want to be in the life that you carry on. I do love you, Christine, even if you can't let yourself believe it yet."

* * *

Christine thought about Erik's words as she changed her clothes in the guest bedroom. She liked that they were together, but as necessity dictated it, they shared separate bedrooms. All the clothing, shoes, jewelry and other trappings that Claudette had cleverly bought for her were housed in the bland but comfortable room. 

She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, and sighed. Yes, she was pretty, and had been called beautiful more times than she could count- but she knew that Erik desired more than just an attractive face and figure. The man wanted more.

_He's told me he loves me…but could I ever be enough for him?_

She took a brush and ran it through her hair until the Nordic blonde shone golden in the overhead light. Christine loved Erik, but she wasn't sure how much more heartbreak or humiliation she could take. If she gave Erik her heart, her trust, gave him everything of herself she had to offer, only to be betrayed in the end…she thought that it might be enough to kill her.

_But Erik isn't like that…I trust him, and even though it might be foolish, I don't think that he would hurt me that way…_

Christine stripped off her sweater set, the corduroy pants and shoes, replacing everything with her new standard night wear, a camisole paired with tiny boyshorts. She wondered if Erik wanted her to wear something prettier, something sexier, like one of the lacy chemises or perhaps nothing at all when she went to him. Christine didn't know what to think anymore, but she decided to simply wear what she felt would be most comfortable- the silky red camisole and the matching shorts definitely won out over the lace.

She wanted to feel comfortable, but the thought of making love again filled her with apprehensive dread rather than warm anticipation.

What was wrong with her?

* * *

Erik looked up at her as she knocked softly at his door and motioned for her to come in. "You don't need to knock, you know. This is you home as well now, I'd thought you'd become used to it by now." 

Christine nervously sat down on the edge of the bed, away from him.

He frowned, recognizing her body language. "Are you afraid of me?"

She looked up, "What? No, I'm not afraid of you, Erik. I love you…I'm just…I'm not sure if…"

"Christine?" He prodded.

"I'm not sure if I want to make love again. It, I mean, I'm not really sure what I'm doing and I want to make you happy, but-"

Erik reached forward and brought her to lay half-atop him as he leaned back against the plain headboard. He smoothed his hands through her hair and down her back, both possessive and affectionate. His hands rested on the curve of her backside, but he did not push her for anything more.

Christine breathed in his scent and kissed his neck; she loved him, she truly did love Erik, but all the while she felt nervous being so close. Erik kissed her temple, she barely felt it. "Christine, I understand that it makes you nervous…given your history and what you've had to endure- what you're still going through at the club, I don't want you to feel pressured. I love you, and I'll wait until you feel ready."

"I'm sorry, Erik. I do want you, and I want us to be together. I'm just…I don't know _how,"_

He looked down at her, smiling. "Don't say that, Christine. I might be tempted to give you a lesson. You knew well enough last night- do you regret what happened between us?" Erik asked, fully serious.

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I could never regret that. I don't regret anything that's happened, I'm just not sure if I can again so soon…"

Erik held her closer. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"That's all I can ask for now. I'll wait until you're ready to trust me enough to go there again."

* * *

Christine awoke the next morning alone, a thing that did not surprise her. Erik had wanted to have her again, and she inwardly berated herself for behaving like a timid little coward. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, huffing angrily as her fingers caught in a few tangles. 

_After everything he's given me, why can't I give him my body when he wants it? I love that man, and I do trust him…I can't trust myself to give him all that he deserves…_

Rather than the intimacy that Erik had wanted, they'd spent the night together kissing and sleepily stroking. Erik had told her of his past, the other women that he had known and taken as his mistresses. They had all been so different- their only trait in common had been that Erik had been unable to love them in the way they had deserved.

All save Christine.

He had told her he loved her several times, and she had meant the words in return. In truth, Christine could see them making love again in her mind's eye, but when Erik held her too close, or his touch became too bold, she reacted in defense rather than welcome.

Erik was afraid of upsetting her- even in Christine's subconscious, he didn't want her to relate his touch to that of the monster that had used her, or the clients of the club where she danced. Eventually in the night, Erik had released Christine and left his bedroom.

Christine sighed, feeling angry and alone.

_How can Erik believe that I love him when I cringe whenever he touches me?_

It was her problem, she knew. Erik only wanted to touch the woman he'd chosen as his lover, and Christine wanted the same things he did…it was what the body remembered, not the mind. She knew Erik would never hurt her, but her body viewed his as some sort of threat and couldn't help but react when he came too close.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and made a mental note to step into the next _Barnes & Noble_ she saw, and buy every book available on the subject of intimacy issues and overcoming a past littered with physical abuse. Christine felt that she owed it to Erik to take control of her situation and move forward with her life.

She stood from the bed and moved down the hallway, toward the guest bedroom. Erik was there, sleeping in the smaller bed. Christine smiled at him. He usually woke before her, and she relished the opportunity to watch him as he slept. He looked very content, peaceful despite the scars and twisted, mottled skin that overtook so much of his face.

Christine stifled laughter as the sleepy eyes of their pups, Snow and King, looked up at her from the bed. Apparently, Erik had not spent the night alone.

She moved to the dresser and took out an outfit for the day.

When Erik awoke in the guestroom, he admitted that he would have greatly preferred to stay in his own bed with Christine. The guestroom was considerably smaller than his own, had no bathroom in connection and the view from the window was different. Added that the guestroom was a half-finished project of his that he'd been putting off for months, and Erik found himself longing for his own bed.

Christine was afraid of him, or at least this was his view of things. She wanted to make love with him again, and he did believe that she loved him, but there was something inside holding her back. Erik hadn't wanted to upset her further or worse, have her think he'd pursue it against her wishes, so he'd simply left to sleep on his own.

Distantly, Erik could sense a presence in the room with him. He could feel the pups moving on the bed beside him, and he could scent Christine's shampoo. He knew she was in the room somewhere, but he was very tired and took a few more minutes to sleep.

Christine slipped into a quick shower and then dressed for the day, mindful that her clothes would not stay on for long once she entered the club. Her throat caught at the thought of returning to the stage after what she had shared with Erik.

The sense that she was betraying him grew stronger than ever.

When she reentered the guestroom, she found Erik sitting up on the bed, yawning. To her, he looked like a sleepy lion. "Good morning," he greeted her, his voice still husky and rough.

She moved closer and put her arms around him, "Hello Erik."

Neither of them wished to mention the sleeping arrangements. Christine made a silent promise that it would be the last time they slept apart.

Erik nuzzled her neck, "You're dressed already. What time is it, love?"

Christine checked her watch. "You're late, Erik."

He shrugged, uncaring if the world fell apart, so long as she was near. "They'll survive without me for a little longer. I have free reign to sleep in on occasion."

Christine kissed his scarred cheek, "The boss has free reign to do what he wants, right?"

"Naturally. I don't even have to be in the office to run things, though it does help. Today I was going to stop by the university anyway," he mused to himself.

Christine nodded. "Erik. I have to…it's almost time for me to go to work."

He tensed slightly before releasing her. "Yes. That. Well, you'd best not be late."

She looked at the floor as King nudged in between them, silently demanding to be petted. "Have they, the police, I mean, have they found anything yet?" She asked, hoping for some indication that it would be over soon.

Erik shook his head. "Not as far as I know. But Christine, I would not be discouraged yet. The break they're looking for might be closer than you think."

Christine sighed slightly, and then turned to leave the room.

* * *

The day went as most of the days before it. Christine let go of herself once on the stage, allowing her more confident persona, Diamond take over. She could not afford to let thoughts of Erik invade her mind, ruining her concentration. Try as she might, Diamond had been on the lookout for what could be considered suspicious activity within the club. Granted, the notes from May left on the counter space for a few select dancers were a definite signal, but the notes themselves were innocent, often reading "Please come to the management office" or the more familiar, "I need to see you after your shift, May." 

Diamond had informed the lead officers on the investigation of who was receiving the notes and were likely to make a "special delivery" that night, but each delivery was made to a different location with no way to track a pattern. The officers were unable to search the women without probable cause or a special warrant once they left the club, leaving them more or less helpless.

Diamond came close to tears once she'd understood how pathetically tied up in red tape paperwork the department was. Other than the notes, she didn't know what else to look for that could be helpful to the case.

Inside, Christine was beginning to panic at the thought that the investigation could take months, if not years.

Diamond glanced at her watch, a small digital Timex that lit in the dark, and saw with satisfaction that her shift was nearly over. She smiled at the weight of her little purse, bursting with large bills.

_I might have made a little over two grand today_, she thought with excitement.

Christine balked at the thought. _It's a lot of money to have made in one day, but at what cost to yourself?_

Diamond laughed, _Grow up- the world isn't all honor and dignity, you know that better than most. Deposit this money into your account right after work- there's no price too high for being financially secure!_

She sighed and moved backstage to clear her head, feeling like a crazy person for arguing with herself. She sat down in front of her counter space and looked at her face in the mirror. The makeup she'd put on earlier was cakey with sweat, and Christine wasted no time in washing it all away.

Eager to get out and away from the loud music and the smoky atmosphere, Christine pulled on her clothes and was soon out the door. She glanced at the bar to wave at Lance, their bartender. He was sweet to her, and he was a stripper himself, but he liked to bartend on the side. Christine appreciated that his eyes never strayed down to her breasts when they would talk, and she wished that all men had the same such manners.

_God bless the gays_, she thought with a smile as she blew him a mock kiss on her way out. Lance caught the air kiss and jokingly put it in his pocket.

Christine stepped past the bar and passed May coming into the building with two other men, leading them through the club and presumably to a table or maybe even the VIP area. The men certainly seemed like high rollers, as Christine recognized the cut of Armani suits. Erik wore his in much the same style, thought she had to admit that he filled his out considerably better than either of the men with May.

One of the men, a striking Spanish silver fox, locked eyes with Christine as they passed each other. She could feel his eyes on her even as she stepped out onto the street.

* * *

After visiting the bank and receiving her balance after the deposit, Christine strode confidently into the _Barnes & Noble_ store a few blocks from Erik's loft. Seeing that she had over $12,000 to her name, Christine knew that she could splurge out on books, magazines, even a few CDs and DVDs and it still would not put much of a dent into her funds. 

_Hell, I can try everything on the Starbucks menu if I want_, she thought, laughing to herself.

Her mood was improved, but she recalled the mission from that morning. It made her feel rotten that Erik had had to leave his own bed because her body refused to cooperate with what her heart and mind wanted, and Christine was determined to seek out a way to reunite herself.

With that thought in mind, she stepped over to the _Self Improvement_ section and glanced at the titles. There were many to choose from, but Christine was not fooled by pretentious titles or unqualified authors. She chose one book, written by a renown psychologist specializing in the recovery of abused women.

She sighed and found a plush chair where she could read. _All right, Dr. Rankin, let's see if you can help me. I don't want to be a lost cause…_

Hours later, Christine had read the book cover to cover, bought it and was already in the loft, waiting for Erik's arrival.

She had to see him, talk to him, make him understand.

Only then would they truly be able to move forward with each other.


	30. Uncertainties

**Author's Note: This is a short chapter, adding a little depth to Christine and Erik's relationship. Next chapter will be longer, and go a long way towards wrapping up the story. Happy Mother's Day!**

* * *

Erik stepped into the lobby of his building, unsure of what to expect when he would cross the threshold to his loft. Christine would be inside, waiting for him, as she had been for the past several days. He had been thinking of her all throughout his workdays, which was not unusual. In fact, ever since meeting Christine, Erik had thought of little else, save his music. 

However, his thoughts of her had never before been filled with shame. Shame in a sense that Erik had never known it before.

_After everything I know she's been though, I still dared to push her into my bed…I am an animal, a bastard…_

He felt confused- as if there was a great problem before him and he had no way to fix it. Christine's past was her own, but what of the present and future she claimed to yearn for so badly? She could kiss Erik and touch him freely, but her body would tense and withdraw from him once things became too intense. The night before, Christine had simply said that she felt nervous; a testament to her inexperience, but Erik was no fool.

_She is afraid to make love again- afraid to enjoy what was once a form of abuse. That monster- I'll make him pay for what he did to her…_

Erik didn't know if he could believe Christine when she told him that she did not regret the one time they'd made love, two nights ago now. It had been such a mad night; filled with dancing, wine, passion. So many things had come together that it had seemed almost inevitable that they would as well. Erik had pleasured her, and been as gentle as he was able, and while he had felt nothing but joy at their union, Christine had been a sea of emotion too deep for Erik to understand.

Erik had no way to understand what Christine might have felt that night but amid the fear and the physical discomfort, he could only hope that she'd felt a small part of the love he had for her.

_I want you, Christine, but I will do what it takes to protect you, even if it means I may never have you again…_

He stepped into one of the elevator shafts and allowed his eyes to stray toward his reflection in the mirrored walls. Erik felt satisfied with what remained of his looks, and thought with a strange smile that his mask added a touch of mystery to his persona. At least his appearance was not boring, and he had not allowed his body to grow weak or too soft.

Christine was attracted to him, Erik knew it, and he thought with a spark of hope that the monster at least had left part of her intact. For if, to Erik's way of thinking, Christine could find a man attractive, she could bear his company and perhaps grow to love him in time.

In love, and time, lie healing.

* * *

Erik unlocked his door and stepped into the loft. He was greeted by the pups and the scent of dinner. His stomach clenched and made a soft growl- he had skipped lunch. "Christine?" 

"In here," she called back to him from the kitchen.

Erik set aside his briefcase and coat before turning the corner to find her at the stove. His heart dipped to see her dressed casually in another pair of dark jeans set with a black cashmere sweater. She was barefoot, he noticed, and had tied her hair back with a scarlet ribbon of lace.

It was a scene of tranquil domesticity that went a way toward warming Erik's heart. She was cooking for him and had set out the table for a romantic evening. He blinked and cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed to have been staring. "What are you cooking, Christine?"

She turned to him, her smile radiant and pure. "The only thing that could possibly warm you in this blizzard," she winked. "Texas chili. I learned how to make it when we were living in Dallas. You'll love it."

Erik nodded, but he still felt somewhat off-balance with her. The night before she had been upset and tense, and now she seemed happy to play the homemaker.

"May I have a sample?"

Wordlessly, Christine held out a spoon and fed him a bite. Erik winced at the strong flavor, "My God, that woke me up!" He joked. "Wonderful, I've never had it so spicy."

Erik smiled, even as his eyes watered and his throat began to itch.

Christine smiled. "I knew you'd love it. It's almost ready to serve."

He nodded again and went off to his bedroom to change out of his suit. It wasn't that he minded Christine making dinner, but he didn't want to be distracted, and he was determined to have a sit-down with her to work out the problem from the night before.

He couldn't allow Christine to put him off, no matter how fantastic her cooking.

* * *

Christine had thought to have a more casual night in with her man- no fancy Italian dishes, no French wine. She wanted simple food, hot, filling and bursting with flavor and she delivered it in spades. 

If Erik didn't care for the meal, he was a wonderful actor, as he'd finished two bowls in the time it took for Christine to finish one. They had drunk milk and ice water to cool their throats from the spice, that in and of itself being a small miracle since Erik behaved so much the connoisseur with his wine.

Once the plates were cleared, Erik moved to the couch and he brought Christine down with him. "That was most certainly my favorite meal this year," he confided as he kissed her temple.

Christine smiled and leaned in closer to him, already her mind falling deeper and deeper into the comfort of his hold. "I'm glad you liked it, Erik."

"I didn't like it, I loved it. Not as much as I love you, but it came in a close third," he said teasingly, his arms twining around her.

Christine raised her head. "A close third? Then what's in second place?"

Erik raised his brows. "Well, there's your hair," he said, tugging at it playfully. "Because it is so gold. Your eyes, such a clever, bold blue. Your lips, well that should be obvious." He moved to kiss Christine's mouth, but she turned her cheek to him instead.

In that small movement, Erik's suspicions were confirmed.

"And then there's your backside, because it's a perfect fit for my hands." He pulled Christine to lay atop him and reached to cup her, his hands easily grasping the jean-clad muscles. "And your legs, each of them easily a mile long…shall I go on?" He asked.

Christine shook her head, laughing nervously. Discreetly, she tried to move off of him, but Erik's hands kept her in place above him. "All of that is in second place?"

"Oh, yes. I love you for you, not for your body, though I must say that is beautiful as well. Christine, are we going to talk about last night?" Erik asked, finally releasing her.

Christine moved to sit astride him, her expression concerned, worried. "Is there any reason that should?"

Erik moved to sit up, easing Christine from his lap and stroking her shoulders. "If you tense when I touch you, then yes, we need to talk. In our…arrangement, and especially after the other night, I had thought we'd be intimate. It's not healthy for us to continue in this way if you are afraid of me."

Christine hung her head a moment before taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. "I am not afraid of you, Erik. I promise, I was never afraid of you. You are the most wonderful man I have even known. You are everything any girl could ever want, but…it's me that I'm afraid of. I don't know how to explain it without sounding like a crazy person," she muttered to herself. "I'm just afraid of getting too close, of letting you too close to me. Erik, I do love you, but I know that it will kill me when you come to your senses."

He'd held her as she had made her confessions, and Erik held her tighter at her last statement. "Christine-"

"I can't help the way I feel!" She cried out. "But what can I offer you? What future do you see us having together when I've given lap-dances to half of your society friends? I recognized them at the opera, at the restaurant. They'll realize who I really am and it will humiliate you. I can't be with you if it'll destroy everything you've worked so hard to achieve…"

Erik took hold of her shoulders and shook her, hard. "Damn it, Christine! Not another word, do you hear me?! I don't care about them, they can't touch us! They're just people like you'll find anywhere else and I'll not hear one more word about their influence! They're nothing to us, all that matters is what's between you and I." He said, his voice and eyes softening. He drew Christine in closer.

"You are not so concerned for appearances, Christine. Why are you pretending? I would uproot my life and settle in a new place where no one knows us if it would make you happy," he sighed. "But I know that's not what you want. This isn't about other people and you know it. This is about you and me. It's about your past."

She reared from him, "No! I don't want to talk about that,"

"You have to talk to someone, sometime, Christine. Even now you do not trust me and you are holding yourself back from so much…I might know someone that could help you," he began.

Christine snorted. "Oh, a therapist? No, thank you! I discussed everything; every horrible little detail of what Michael did to me over the years with two psychologists right after he was taken away. I'm surprised you didn't already know that thanks to your investigation into my past- or maybe you do. I'm not the only one with secrets, am I?" She demanded.

Erik shook his head, "No. I only know a few facts, the rest is all for you to fill in." He said, almost challenging her.

She shook her head, angry, confused and ashamed. "No," she said quietly. "I've told you before that I want to move on, and I do. But not at the cost of the life you've built."

Christine thought little of her own circumstances- she had endured abuse, forged friendships, and most amazing of all, she'd found love with a wonderful man. She thought herself blessed in some ways, cursed in others. She could take care of herself. Stripping for money was not a thing she had ever enjoyed, in the beginning it had been purely for the money, but it was only after being with Erik that she had come to think of it as a sort of betrayal.

This wonderful man that had given so much of himself already, he was willing to give her so much more, and Christine spent her days with other men, allowing them to touch her, dancing for them, giving them the sort of attention that should belong to Erik alone…

In spite of the setback that would mark him for the rest of his life, Erik had built a life for himself that would elicit envy from any man. Christine would destroy her own face before allowing anything of her past to jeopardize it.

Erik forced her face to his and kissed her, hard. "Christine. Please, don't talk that way. I'll do anything for you, anything you need, just say the word and it's yours. What happened to you before and what is happening now, I don't see you any differently. I love you, I don't care about any of it." He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes blazing down into hers. "Once this mess is taken care of, I'll see that it's buried. I'll take care of everything. If you want, I can rewrite your history- no one will ever know of it and then we can move on together…"

He sighed against her mouth, frustrated and unsure how to continue. "I've…there are things in motion, Christine. For you. I just need more time, a few more days and it will be over. Say you trust me, please, I need to hear you say it."

Christine fell into his arms, exhausted. "I do trust you, Erik. I just can't trust myself yet."

* * *

They each had a restless, fitful sleep. Christine tossed and turned in the guest bedroom while Erik had hardly moved at all, his eyes shut but his mind tumultuous as ever. Not only was her past coming into play, but Christine's insecurities were becoming overwhelming. Erik wasn't sure how to go on. 

He'd spent the day on the telephone, arranging certain events that would, hopefully, fall into place perfectly in the sort of Machiavellian puzzle he'd never thought to be involved in. Erik had not counted on Christine's own inner turmoil emerging now, threatening to drive them even further apart.

In her mind, she was unworthy of him, and saw herself as a threat to his social standing. That everything in Erik's life, his careers, his friendships, would fall apart on the realization that Christine, his beautiful young mistress held a dark past, was absurd. She didn't dare threaten his reputation or image. As if she could.

Erik rolled over. _Then there is the other, that her body rejects me_.

That was another thing entirely, but no doubt linked to the first. Perhaps she was simply afraid to deepen their intimacy, or her insecurities dominated her mind, but whatever the cause, Christine was subtly rejecting the small physical advances he made.

Erik was no saint, but he wasn't a complete bastard. He wanted to take Christine to bed again, to make love to her, to give her pleasure and free her from the horrible, hazy memory of her first experience. She was his woman, his mistress, and Erik wanted her as only a man could. He'd had her body only two nights ago, and already his body was screaming in frustration that he hadn't had her again, and worse, she was not sharing his bed.

He wanted her, but more than her body, he wanted her heart.

Earlier, she had mentioned a book that she'd bought that afternoon, some self-help tome written by an accredited psychologist. Erik was grateful for that, at least. Christine recognized a problem and was seeking help in her own way. She had told him that she wished to keep her own counsel and work through her feelings on her own, rather than discuss her dilemma with a stranger.

"No one knows my problems better than I do," she'd said. "So why should I take them to someone else?"

Why, indeed.

As frustrating as it was, Erik knew that the only thing he could do was allow Christine the freedom to look inside herself and make her own choices. He had to take a step back to ease the pressure- he could not sway her; he wanted her in his life, desperately, but he would be damned if he would force her to be with him against her true wishes.

Ultimately, it was Christine who would decide if they were to go forward together or not.

Erik could only hope for the best.


	31. The Trap Is Set

Christine could find no sleep- her night with Erik had not turned out the way she'd hoped. Rather than follow the sage advice she'd discovered both in her new book and on several helpful Internet sites, Christine had dissolved into tears and confessed several disjointed insecurities.

Erik could not understand.

He'd suggested therapy, but Christine had balked at the idea- and why not? She'd been to therapy, both before and after her bastard of a stepfather had been brought in for his crimes against her. It did help to talk her problems out, but Christine couldn't see how explaining the way she felt to a complete stranger could be of any real use.

She knew why she felt the way she did, she understood her own motivations and behavior. She knew she was wrong about Erik, and that she had lied to protect herself...it was just a very difficult thing to come to terms with.

Her personal insecurities were strong. Christine knew Erik, and she'd grown to love him; simply, she felt terrified that he might someday soon grow bored or exasperated with her and ask her to leave. She rolled over in bed for the sixth time that night and sighed deeply, thinking that she could save Erik the trouble and leave him.

No, the night had not turned out the way she'd wished at all. The book advised a quiet sit-down and complete honesty of her feelings. Erik wasn't a therapist, but she'd felt confident that he could relate in some way to the abuse she had suffered.

Christine sat up and glanced over at the pups, nestled together in their beds. Snow looked up at her and Christine smiled slightly, wondering if she was out of her mind for even considering going to Erik again.

She shrugged to herself and stepped out of her room, padding quietly down the hall to Erik's. She slipped in the door to find him sprawled on his stomach, his long, bare back facing her. Any reservations she had were forgotten, and Christine carefully climbed into bed with him. She knew he would not hurt her. He loved her.

"Erik," she whispered. "Erik, are you awake?"

She shook him lightly, her hand directly over his tattooed shoulder. He rolled over to face her. "Of course I'm awake. You didn't think I'd be able to sleep, did you?"

Despite everything, Christine smiled at his dry humor. "No."

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Is everything all right?"

She held his hand against her face, reveling in his warmth. "No, Erik. Everything has gone wrong, can't you feel it? Ever since I had to go back to dancing…"

"Yes. It's been eating away at me, every night. I'd thought after Saturday we might be able to start anew, but-"

Christine moved down so that he could circle his arms around her. "Erik, please. You aren't doing anything wrong, I'm just…there's a lot left over from everything I've been through. I've had to put it off for so long, but it feels like I'm just now starting to get over all that happened."

Erik shifted beneath her. "We both know that this isn't something that you can just get over with, you can't just forget about all of it and go on as if it never happened."

"Why not?"

"You will have just buried your pain, and sooner or later it will rise to the surface. Believe me, I know." He said quietly. Christine sensed a conflict on Erik's mind, but he reluctantly continued. "Not all of my scars were from my mother, or the surgeries that came after…some I did to myself…"

Christine gasped and moved to face him. Erik's room was very dark, but she could feel him, hard and hot beneath her hands. "Erik, why didn't you tell me?"

He stroked her arms. "For the same reasons you haven't told me. I was embarrassed, ashamed…I didn't trust you enough to hear the truth. I'm sorry," he said as he felt her draw back. "I just didn't want to tell you yet,"

Christine kissed his ravaged cheek and brought her arms around him tightly, moving so they laid side by side in his bed, the sheet tangled about their legs. "Erik, what happened to you? Why would you ever hurt yourself?"

He sighed. "I can't even say I was drunk, or that it was an accident. I was angry- no, more than angry, Christine. Furious. Murderous! I could have hurt someone, but thankfully I took out my aggression on myself rather than anyone else. What an idiot I was back then."

Erik shifted Christine closer to him and kissed her lips softly before going on. "It was my first love, or, as close to love as I had ever known at the time. Looking back on it, I was too young to understand the difference between friends and romance. There was a girl. She was older than I was, but she couldn't have been a day over 18. There had been no mask then; she spoke to me as if she couldn't even see the new stitches. Fool that I was, I'd thought her to be in love with me, the way I'd fallen for her."

Christine nuzzled closer, stroking his face. "And she hadn't?"

Erik shook his head. "No. I'd picked a few flowers and written her a love letter- trying to be romantic, the way I'd seen men behave in films. The girl, her name was Kaitlyn, came looking for me the next day. I'll give her credit that she was wonderful about it all- she told me that I was just too young, but that I'd grow up someday and make a girl feel very special, and that we would still be friends."

"Sounds like an easy letdown," Christine said, idly stroking his chest.

"It was, but it was a rejection all the same. I wasn't able to understand. I went after her , to convince her that I could take her out on a date- ridiculous, as I think I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. I followed her back to her house, just in time to see her leave with the boyfriend she'd never told me about. Even today I'm amazed at my own anger. It was rage, pure and simple. I hated myself for loving Kaitlyn, for being rejected and betrayed by her, for being so ugly that she hadn't given me the chance…"

"And you attacked yourself?" Christine asked quietly.

She felt him nod against her. "Yes. Self-destructive little bastard that I was, I didn't care about the stitches I ripped open, or the new scars sure to occur at my own hand…my foster parents and Kaitlyn's mother could hear me screaming, they restrained me- I don't know what happened after that, only that I woke up in another hospital with even more stitches."

"That's terrible, Erik."

"It was, in a way. I was ashamed at becoming so out of control, and to make amends to myself I vowed never to lose my temper in such a way again. I concentrated everything I had on school, to the exclusion of all else. I worked hard, with only two goals in mind: to make as much money as I could and to earn the respect of everyone I met. I refused to let anyone think of me as the crazed, scarred freak I was that day." The shame at revealing his past violent temper could be heard in his voice.

Christine stroked his face, unbothered by his scars. She wished that she could heal him in the way that he had helped to heal her. "You succeeded in life, Erik. You've earned everything you have, I've never met anyone like you before."

He laughed softly. "Why are we talking about me? It's you that came in to talk, and somehow you managed to have me spill my life."

Christine nodded against him. "I only came in to tell you that I was sorry the evening turned out the way it did, and that you were right. I don't care about what your friends think of me being with you. I only care about you- I know how hard you've worked to have everything, to get this far in life. The last thing I want to do is make things more difficult for you. After everything you've done for me, I shouldn't be giving you this much trouble."

Erik shifted against her. "You make it sound as if you owe it to me not to have any difficulties at all." He said, his arms tightening around her.

"A mistress is meant to relieve your problems, not add to them." Christine said softly.

"You'd been listening to Claudette for too long. A mistress is many things to a man, but she isn't an emotionless servant; I never wanted you here as some sort of blank robot, with your only function being to make me happy. I prefer you as you are. I know you're going through a great deal right now, love, but I promise that it will be over soon."

The certainty in his voice was unnerving. "What have you got planned, Erik?"

"It might be better that you don't know." He said evasively. Glancing at his alarm clock, Erik said, "May I ask why you felt like chatting me up at nearly 2 AM?"

Christine rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. "I just wanted to explain to you what I was feeling,"

"Please do,"

"I'm not afraid of you, Erik. I'm afraid of getting hurt; even though I believe you when you tell me you would never intentionally hurt me, subconsciously I'm still wary. I'm trying to let myself trust you, please believe me. I want to be with you in every way, I just don't want to disappoint you…"

Erik drew her closer, kissing her into silence. "You could never disappoint me, Christine."

* * *

**12 PM**

Diamond did not take the stage as expected the next day.

After checking his e-mail on the ever-present laptop, Erik had insisted that she have the day off, nearly commanding her to stay away from the club. As Christine watched, he went ahead to inform May that her star performer was feeling slightly under the weather. A white lie, yes, but Erik felt no need to tell the truth to that drug-running cow.

May had taken the news in stride. "Fine, fine, Erik. Tell her she's missing out on some fine tips, though. I have some friends here from out of town- deep pockets!"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she can manage. Goodbye May." And then disconnected before turning to Christine. "I'm going to run a few errands, Christine. You can do what you want with the day. I might be a while, but if all goes well none of this will take too long."

Christine frowned slightly at his nervous behavior, but nodded her assent.

_What are you doing, Erik...?_

* * *

**2:30 PM**

Erik stood, looking out to the city from the large windows of his Manhattan offices. He hadn't been in the last few days, as he was dealing with several different issues, nearly all of them involving Christine in some way or another.

He'd had Maron scouring his contacts throughout Europe- Italy and France especially- in the hunt for a pair of earrings worthy of being seen on Christine when he took her dancing again. Erik wasn't especially picky over the details of what a woman wore, but when it came to Christine, it had to be nothing but the best.

In addition to the earrings, Erik's assistants had been busy arranging reservations at chic restaurants, purchasing tickets to museums, art galleries, concerts and exclusive clubs. As he had been alerted by e-mail that morning, things were moving delightfully ahead of schedule- Erik knew Christine would be in the mood to celebrate their freedom once everything was over, and he aimed to be prepared.

"So we're all in place?" Erik asked, turning to face his new companion.

"Yes, sir. The feed has been brought to the attention of both the agents and the officers working the case. My men have reported that the subject's associates have not left the premises yet, and appear unlikely to do so."

Erik blinked at the man. "Unlikely to leave, eh? I'm not surprised, I'm sure May is throwing them quite the party."

"That's one way of putting it, sir. One of my men reported in only minutes ago that a great deal of food and liquor has been taken to the VIP lounge area of the club."

Erik nodded. "Everything hand-delivered by topless women, I'm sure."

The man made no response, confirming Erik's thought.

He gestured for the man to take a seat, and Erik offered him a drink. "I'm on duty, sir. Also, I don't recommend that you drink now, either. If you're still intent to go on as planned, that is."

Erik looked at the whiskey bottle for a moment, and then thought of Christine. He set the bottle and empty glass aside. "I do plan to go ahead with it- I am responsible for so much of this. It was I who invested in the business side of her operation, secondly funding this mess. It's been going on for months, right in front of me, and I was too damn stupid to see it. No. I have to do this. Can I have the leader's name again, please? His thugs do not interest me."

The man nodded, curtly. "Yes, sir. Salvador Torres, the ringleader of the operation. He and May have been involved for years, not only as business partners but on a personal level as well. The details we could get ahold of are sketchy, but we believe that it was Torres behind the idea of using the women here as the carriers."

Erik nodded, remembering the file that had been sent to his e-mail just that morning. "The more I hear about him, the more eager I am to tear the damn place apart." He muttered.

The man smiled slightly, understanding Erik's restlessness. "You'll have your chance."

He glanced up, shaken that he'd said that out loud. He returned the man's slight smile. "You're right of course. I suppose that is why you are the best in the business."

Again, the man was silent, confirming his thought, which satisfied Erik very much.

* * *

**4:45 PM**

"May, hello," Erik greeted her once he stepped into her office.

Caught off guard, May scrambled to arrange a small stack of financial spreadsheets on the surface of her desk. "Oh, Erik, good…good…"

"It's afternoon, May. Almost evening, actually. Near five." He informed her. "It's already dark outside."

The gaunt woman before him seemed confused for a moment, her eyes puffy and unfocused. "Five, right. All right, five…I think I was supposed to- Erik, would you like a drink?" She asked, her speech slightly erratic.

Erik, nonchalant, took a seat across from her. "Yes, a whiskey if you have it please." May shakily stood up from her chair and moved to the small liquor cabinet on the counter that ran the far wall of her office. He watched her with cold, bright eyes as she poured the drink, sloshing some of it onto the floor and seeming not even to notice. "Are you all right, May? You seem a bit…shaken, I think, and your eyes are red. Having you been crying?"

She shook her head and handed him the glass. "N-no, it's all right."

"And those friends you mentioned? The ones from out of town?"

She blinked a few times, seemingly trying to clear her head. Thin, frustrated fingers speared through her newly dyed hair. Jet black this time. Erik thought it fitting. "They're doing fine." She blinked again, motioning to one of the security screens mounted on her desk. "Your girl is earning her keep with them in the VIP room as we speak."

The cool, unaffected eyes of Erik widened. "What? She's down there?" He demanded, surprised.

May nodded. "Yep, Diamond came in about an hour ago. Apparently one of my associates saw her the other day and when he asked about her, he simply had to meet her. One call was all it took to get her to come in to work. You might want to be a little more generous, Erik."

He swallowed painfully- fury and frustration battled within him. _Christine was in danger!_

"I am generous…" he said absently, his mind solely on the girl.

May retook her seat behind the desk, reaching into one of the bottom drawers. "You can't be too generous, Erik. Otherwise, why does she keep coming back to give all these men the ride of their lives?" She asked, sounding suddenly far too confident in herself.

Erik held his drink and got up, rising to pace like a caged lion. This wasn't supposed to happen, Christine was never meant to be here!

"Stop pacing, Erik. I've had enough of this," May said, her voice strong.

"Enough of what, May?" Erik demanded.

"Enough of your charade. I have to say, you pulled off quite the little show, but you're forgetting that from here I can see everything," May said, turning the security monitor towards him. Rather than focusing on the other dimensions of the club, the footage was concentrated on one particular area, the time set only minutes before Erik had entered the office.

On the screen he saw himself adjusting the wire he'd been fitted with by the agent that had been in his office earlier that day. May might have thought she had him trapped, but it was Erik that held all the cards- he always had. Even now, confident as she was that she had caught Erik, she had no idea that he'd been deliberately fidgeting with the wire, knowing that she would be paralyzed by the cold hand of fear.

That's what Erik wanted, for May to be as terrified and helpless as she'd made Christine feel that first night she had forced her to Erik's loft.

"How long has this been going on, Erik?" May demanded.

Erik glared at her. "Not long. Only a week or so. How long have you been using this place as a damn drug warehouse?"

May sighed. "I've been to jail before, Erik."

"County jail, May. It'll be federal prison this time," Erik countered. "Your luck has run out. We were only too happy to help the feds bring you down. All these little drop-in visits of mine? I've planted cameras and audio recorders. They finally had what they needed once they saw the footage of what you and your associate friends were up to. It's the end of the line, May."

May stood up from the desk, bringing a pistol up with her. She pointed it straight between Erik's eyes. "Then I'd better go out with a b-argh!"

May's parting line was cut short as Erik hurled his whiskey glass at her, burning her eyes with the alcohol and bloodying her lip by force of the glass. She weilded the gun blindly, a shot rang out, shattering the mirrored wall above the club. Dancers and waitresses screamed, and police officers swarmed the club from every entrance.

By the time May had regained her vision, she was surrounded by narcotics agents and officers of the NYPD.

* * *

Erik slipped through the employee entrance of the club with the silent grace of a shadow- even as he walked away, he could hear May screaming protests at the officers. Screeching, really. He didn't care about any of that, his role in the sting operation was over now. He only had one thing left on his mind, Christine.

His walk through the hidden tunnel stopped before the VIP area, his eyes burning at the sight that met him.

The men were there, May's "associates" who'd only just arrived the day before, expecting to collect on their investments. _Greasy bastards._

He saw them all standing with their guns drawn, tense and waiting for officers to storm the room. Erik glared. There was no way out of the room, the officers and agents all knew it thanks to the blueprints of the building Erik had been happy to provide.

Erik started as he saw a slim, familiar shape close to the lead man, Salvador. His fingers were twined into Christine's hair, forcing her head back, she was standing in front of him, clad only in a scant pair of panties. He felt his stomach twist and his chest tighten with rage. Christine was being used as a shield!

Suddenly, Erik felt all the anger and frustration he'd been holding at bay sweep over him, enveloping his clever mind with blind fury, the demand to make that man pay for dare touching what was _his._

Everything else seemed to fall away.

Erik couldn't think, he could only move, rushing forward, through the mirrored wall, straight toward Salvador. He could not see, everything was red. He could only feel the man's neck under his hands as he wrapped his fingers around his throat and began to squeeze…

Distantly, Erik could hear Christine screaming. More glass was shattering, somewhere. Men were shouting. Gunshots rang out.

Erik heard himself hiss as a sharp, brutal pain tore through him, and the room began to tilt. Then, there was nothing.


	32. Strength

Humbled, humiliated, and terrified, Christine paced up and down the length of the hospital waiting room. So much of the afternoon had been a blur, and she didn't think much of the irony that her mother was with her here in the same building, lying half-dead in a coma somewhere in one of the many rooms that lined each long hallway. Christine had never wanted to visit her. She felt that she had sacrificed enough of herself already for that woman; her only concession to any family tie had been paying for her mother's care.

It's what her father would have done.

As she waited, she gave her mother hardly a thought at all; her only concern was for Erik, who had arrived far ahead of her by ambulance, and was now in surgery. Christine had been with him when he'd been caught in the crossfire, it was Erik who had appeared from nowhere to protect her. There was no doubt in her mind that had it not been for Erik, she would be lying in the hospital morgue, rather than pacing the waiting room.

"You should sit down, let me get you something to drink,"

Christine turned to Philippe, vaguely aware that he'd been with her the entire time. It had been he that had driven her to the hospital, after all. She was wearing his sweater. "No. I don't want anything."

_Only Erik_. Christine didn't say it, but the words were hanging in the air between them.

Philippe lowered his head, understanding. "I didn't think you would. I'm sorry, Christine. This is all my fault. I never should have-"

Christine rounded on him, all of the stress and fear finally catching up to her. She lunged at him, clawing at his shirt and struggling against his hands when he caught her shoulders. "You're right, you shouldn't have! So why did you? Did you want to see me like all the rest of them? Was that it?" Christine tried to pull away from him, but Philippe held on, even as she tried to hit him and dissolved into tears. "Erik could be dying in there because of you! If you hadn't asked for me…"

Philippe held Christine against him as she cried, overwhelmed and completely overcome. He couldn't blame her. Already he was wracked with guilt, sick with fear that the man Christine loved could be dying or very well dead because of his ignorance.

Like his younger brother, Philippe had the unfortunate habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for in essence, if Philippe had stayed away from the club as he should have done, none of this would be happening. Likely, Erik and Christine would be out celebrating the club's foreclosure and ultimate downfall, but it was because of him that they were here in the hospital with Erik on the operating table and Raoul on his way to join them.

Philippe held Christine, even as she continued to struggle against him, and he accepted all the blame.

* * *

News traveled fast, especially among friends. Christine sat across from Tawny in the waiting room. The other girl sat beside Philippe, appearing uncomfortable and very nervous. Christine tried to ignore her, she didn't want to see anything that reminded her of the club. She felt sick from worry. Still, try as she might, Tawny's very presence called for attention. 

_I'm here if you need to talk, _was the message in her soft eyes, but Christine felt disgusted.

She didn't want to talk. She was exhausted from anger and shame, the guilt of knowing that Erik had been hurt for protecting her. The people surrounding her were curious; the constant secrecy from the world that existed outside of her and Erik put an ache in her heart, but now was not the time to divulge her connection with him, or the arrangement she'd had with the police force working the narcotics investigation.

All Christine wanted was to be told that Erik was perfectly fine, with barely a scratch on him, and he would walk out of the hospital with a clean bill of health.

Christine looked down into the hands that were resting on her lap.

_No. _

Dark stains of blood marked her palms. Erik's blood. Her hands had been covered in it when she'd pulled him into a corner on the floor with her, out of the crossfire. Christine swallowed painfully. Tears stung her eyes. Her hands shook as she recalled the expression on Erik's face when he'd looked up at her. "What are you doing?" He'd rasped. "You weren't supposed to be here…"

He'd reached up to touch her face, but his eyes had rolled back and his body had gone limp. Christine had screamed for help, and in her panic it had seemed hours before the medics pushed their way into the room and forced her from his side.

Now, here she was, waiting and ready to hear the fate of Erik Latour. The man she realized she loved more than life itself.

* * *

Hours passed. 

Raoul had been the first to arrive, both anxious over Erik and relieved that Christine was unharmed.

If he only knew.

Claudette strode into the hospital waiting room, cool and confident as ever; she seemed uneffected, unyeilding to the possibility that Erik might not walk away from these injuries as he had from others in the past. The idea of Erik's death simply did not occur. The French redhead simply entered the room, assessed everyone assembled there, and moved to approach a passing nurse.

Her words were subtle, but her meaning was clear. She wanted an immediate update on the status of Monsieur Latour and she would have it.

Others came after Claudette- an older man wearing a white labcoat, of all things, and several of the dancers that Christine remembered from the opera house. Even in their worry over Erik, their _'beloved maestro'_, they were unified and beautiful. Sychronized tears of grief.

Christine sat, huddled into her plain plastic chair, with Raoul on one side holding her hand, and Philippe on the other. Her leg was shaking, her stomach twisting. Christine's skin felt clammy, the frustration of _not knowing_ was slowly driving her insane.

Erik had protected her and she had done her best to protect him, but she had failed, and he'd been terribly hurt. Shot, caught in the crossfire of thugs and agents. Her man had gone down, one among many earlier that evening.

Christine moved to check her watch, and blanched to find that the face of it was dark with Erik's blood from hours before. She struggled out of her chair and ran for the nearest restroom, ignoring Raoul's call after her.

She made it to the sink, her hands shaking and her stomach tight.

_Oh, God, please, please let Erik walk away from this. He's never done anything to deserve this, he was only trying to help. Please, don't let him die after trying to help me…oh, Erik, how could I have let this happen?_

Christine could hear herself sobbing, her cries echoing off the polished tiles, but she didn't care. She cried for Erik and herself, for everything she hadn't told him, for what might have been and for what may never be.

"Christine,"

Glancing up, she saw Claudette's striking form in the mirror. Christine turned to face her, swiping at her tears like a child in a desperate show of pride. "Sorry…what is it?"

Claudette moved toward her and took Christine up into her arms. It had been a very long time since Christine had been held by a friend, and a woman's hold was much different than a man's. Erik's embrace was so often reassuring and strong, while Claudette held her only to offer a bit of comfort and calm.

Claudette genuinely adored Christine, and it hurt her to see the younger woman in such obvious anguish. The girl's cries had spurred her into action, demanding answers from nurses, and electing herself to bear Christine the news. She took a deep breath before lowering her head to Christine's ear. "Christine. Stop this crying, you can do no good for him like this, cowering at the sink. You must be patient for him. Strong. Erik needs you to believe in him now. That man loves you, he told me this many times. Believe he will pull through this, and he will. For you, he will."

Claudette's words were strong, and her voice was steady. Christine pulled back to see the steely strength of her friend's bright jade eyes. Claudette gripped her shoulders. "Do you believe Erik will make it through this or not?" She demanded, shaking her.

Christine found her voice, surprised that it came out just as strong as her own. "I know he will."

* * *

"That's the last one, stitch him up," 

"Close call, he's lost so much blood…very healthy, very strong…"

"Could have been paralyzed, or died, if it had come any closer,"

"Will need plenty of rest, I've just started him on a morphine drip, it will put him out for hours…"

Distantly, he could hear voices. No. Echoes of voices, but none he could recognize. Erik felt buried in his own mind, smothered under a cloud of numbing gray. He could not see, or speak, or move.

He wondered if he had died.

_Christine._

He remembered seeing her on the other side of the mirrored walls, nearly naked, being pushed and pulled by a man, she had been in danger…had that been real, or part of his dream? He recalled her face above his, her eyes bright with tears, her hands covered in blood. She had seemed very afraid for him. What had happened?

The club. She wasn't supposed to be there, he'd told her to stay home, to stay safe in his loft…

Erik felt exhausted, his thoughts were only turning him in circles, and he had not the strength to chase down every stray detail of his memory.

He felt unaware of his physical body, and as morphine began to flow through his veins, Erik quickly became unaware of everything else.

* * *

"Erik, I'm so sorry…I don't know how it came to this, but it's my fault." 

Christine sat beside his bed, her guilt cutting her inside. Erik was there, motionless, breathing quietly in the dim room. He had lost his mask somewhere in the shooting- it was a rare opportunity to absorb the sight of him unmasked, but Christine didn't give his scars a thought. For her shame, she couldn't see them, she could only see Erik, laying so pale and damaged before her.

It had been Claudette that had directed the nurse to her, stating that Christine was Erik's woman, and deserved to see him first.

The nurses informed her that Erik had been shot several times- mostly minor wounds that, after being cleansed and stitched, would heal on their own. More scars to mar his body, reminders of what he'd endured for Christine.

There had been one bullet, one shot that had very nearly reached its mark. Half an inch to the left, perhaps an inch deeper, and Erik's heart will not only have stopped- it would have been destroyed completely.

His eyes were moving as he slept, she could see his lashes moving back and forth. She inched closer to him, cupping his face, stroking his hair. "Erik," she whispered to him. "I love you- God, I love you so much...I'm sorry about before, that I didn't kiss you or make love with you. Wake up, Erik, pull through this and I'm yours, for as long as you want me."

She moved even closer to him, kissing his cheeks, and then his lips. Her own heart was thundering in her ears, each beat pounding love for him, only for him. Everything she'd been holding back from him came over her in a rush, breaking down her careful defenses, renewing the strength of self that she'd lost over the past year.

Christine glanced down and took his hand into hers, gripping him fiercely, lending her strength to him. "You will come out of this, Erik. I know you can hear me. When you wake up, I'll be right here, waiting for you."

Christine smiled for the first time that day as she felt his hand tighten over her own.


	33. Recovering

Over a week passed before Erik finally woke up.

He had returned to inner consciousness slowly, digging his way out from under the heavy weight of drugs and his own throbbing pain. He knew that Christine was close, he could sense her somewhere just beyond his reach. He only knew that he had to find her, to see that she was safe and to protect her from whatever was coming next.

_I heard her, I felt her…she is here…_

Erik's mind raged with effort. More that anything, he wanted to open his eyes and find out where he was. It felt to him that his body was dead, that he was trapped within himself. He had no concept of time or anything outside of his own wandering thoughts. He didn't know where he was or how long he had been there; he only knew that he had to find Christine.

The true sense of helplessness only enraged him further, and he fought against the crushing, numbing gray until he was exhausted and very frightened that he might be trapped there, struggling, imprisoned inside his own body for the rest of his life.

_Christine…I'm sorry..._

* * *

The day Erik awoke had been different from all the rest before it. After a fitful inner sleep, he awoke within himself and immediately sensed a change. The smothering gray fog that he had fought against for so long had seemed thinner, weaker, and infinitely more vulnerable. 

He didn't know what to make of it, only that now was the time to strike.

Erik tore through the shroud and felt his heart sing with relief that he could feel his limbs once again. He spread and curled his toes; he furrowed his brow and tightened his fists. Erik fought a strong wave of dizziness when he turned his head slightly to the side; he opened his eyes, ignoring the pain of the brightness overhead.

He blinked and took in his surroundings, forcing his eyes to take in the light; he was in a hospital, Erik didn't need his eyes to know that. It had been years since he'd last lain in a room, so similar to this one, but Erik recognized the beeping machines, the distant sounds of the nurse intercom in the hallway, and the scent of antiseptics.

He glanced down to see a tube in his left forearm and another in the back of his hand.

Erik shuddered.

He hated hospitals. _Why am I here?  
_

Erik tried to move but he let out a groan at the sudden stab of pain in his chest.

"Erik? Oh, thank God!"

He turned to his right to see Christine suddenly by his side. He felt confused for a moment, where had she come from?

His face was blank as his eyes assessed her- she looked unharmed, in fact he'd never seen her look so lovely. Then again, he'd never seen her look so relieved and happy to see him.

Erik gave her a weak smile as she neared his bed. Christine took his hand into both of hers and held it there, warming him. She brought a chair close to his bed to sit beside him and brought his hand to her lips. Her eyes were wet. "I'm so glad to see you." She said quietly, reaching to stroke her fingers through his hair.

_Why did her voice catch just then? Had she thought I would leave her?_

His mind was swimming slightly, the dizziness was returning, and he still couldn't understand why he was in the hospital. Erik focused on her, and lifted his hand to cup her face. She looked so beautiful- the worry from before was burned from her eyes, replaced with a sense of strength that he had never seen before. The slight circles beneath her eyes had vanished; Christine seemed to radiant warmth.

How had he never seen this side of her before?

Erik tried to speak, but his throat felt far too tight. Christine seemed to understand, and she brought a cup of ice chips to his lips. "Christine," he rasped. "What happened…?"

Christine took the cup back from him, setting it on a nearby tray, and she adjusted his bed so that he could sit up. The movement hurt his chest, but Erik stifled the groan in his throat. He hated that he was in the hospital; he didn't want Christine to see him as weak on top of that.

The girl took a deep breath and slowly began to recount what had happened that day.

Her story was swift, starting with a simple phone call from her dancer friend, Tawny, who had informed Christine that there had been several requests for her from a young blonde man. Tawny hadn't known his name, and so Christine had assumed that Raoul had gone to the club in search of her.

Why he wouldn't have dialed her cellular first had not occurred to her, and so against her better judgment, Christine had gone to the club to see him. She had not intended to stay there; she had thought to walk in, find Raoul, and from there they could decide how best to spend the day together- Erik had insisted that she avoid the club, and Christine loved catching up with her old friend.

However, upon arriving at the club, Christine had found that it hadn't been Raoul who'd been asking after her, but his older brother Philippe.

Philippe, who had been as good a friend to her in Miami as Raoul; he'd acted as the older brother she'd never had, often teasing and pulling pranks, but never unkind, never cruel.

There had been a great confusion as the three of them, Christine, Philippe and Tawny had been at the bar, arguing over who had said what, and how their wires appeared to have become crossed.

Philippe hadn't wanted her there for a dance; he'd been on the same bent as Raoul, ready to shake the truth from her to find out why she had become an exotic dancer, and what he could do to help.

Tawny had been apologetic- she'd confused Philippe with Raoul, and Christine had been ready to laugh the whole thing off as a simple misunderstanding. She'd dearly missed her 'big brother', and had been ready to suggest that the two of them go to lunch when, inevitably it seemed, they had been interrupted.

May had caught sight of Christine and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from her friends. Philippe had tried to stop her, but bouncers had moved in to stop him, forcefully escorting him out of the club when he'd resisted them.

May screeched at her, "What the fuck kind of trick are you trying to pull, having Erik call in for you, saying you're sick and then showing up here a couple hours later?! You think just because you're fuckin' around with him that I'll let you get away with this bullshit? Stupid trick! You're just in time, a friend of mine was askin' for you anyway, said he saw you the other night and you're just to his liking too. Get your ass in there!"

Christine had tried to struggle against her, but May had been surprisingly strong, and had managed to practically drag Christine from the bar over to the VIP lounge, shoving her into the large room. Her eyes had gone wide as she'd recognized the men from the day before; again they were dressed in sleek suits, looking every inch the high-end client.

May had hauled Christine through the room and only released her once they were near an older, handsome man. He'd smiled when he'd seen Christine, nodding his approval…

Erik had listened intently, understanding her reasons for going to the club. It had been a misunderstanding; she'd thought to find Raoul but instead had found Philippe, and May had forced her into the VIP lounge where Erik had seen her.

_Still, that doesn't explain what I saw… _

Erik cupped her face again. "Christine, I'm so thankful that you weren't hurt, but…when I saw you, you weren't…I mean, had you danced for him?" He asked. Erik had recalled seeing her clad in next to nothing, naked but for a bit of lace, being held as a human shield by that cowardly bastard, Salvador.

Christine looked away, briefly. She took a deep breath. She had hoped that Erik would have forgotten, but it seemed he remembered enough of that night. "No, I didn't dance for him."

Erik's hand tightened over hers slightly, when he spoke his voice was tight with blooming fury. "He didn't-"

"No. It didn't get that far." She said, clearly wishing to bring the focus back to him. That hell was over, done with. It was Erik who had sacrificed himself to protect her, and Christine had decided days ago that what had happened to her was no longer of any importance. "None of that matters now. Erik, do you remember anything else? You…you were shot, several times. The nurses told me that most of them were just flesh wounds. You'll have scars, but after a while you'll be fine. There was one…"

Erik watched as Christine suddenly dissolved into tears beside him. He longed to reach forward and bring her into his arms, but he found that he could barely move at all for the pain blossoming from his heart.

The picture was beginning to come clear.

"I was shot in the chest, wasn't I?" Erik asked. The words seemed unnecessary. He carefully probed himself until he felt a soft patch over the left of his chest. He lifted the loose collar of his gown to find a soft gauze bandage taped over his heart. For the first time in a very long while, Erik felt a cold fear chill his bones as a singular, stark reality dawned on him.

_I might have died!_

The very thought seemed impossible to him, even as he realized the truth. He'd been shot, had very nearly died. One moment fighting for Christine, dead the next. He'd never had to come to terms with his own mortality before- that he was not invincible came as a shock. This new vulnerability was disturbing.

Christine looked up at him; her eyes were bright with tears, yet still strong. "Yes. You were, but they told me that you would be fine. It's only been a week, but-"

"A week?! I've been here for a week?"

Christine nodded, "It's actually been about ten days. You lost a lot of blood, Erik, but they said that you would be fine," she said shakily.

Erik felt bewildered- ten days he had been caught beneath the crushing shroud of gray, ten days of nothing but oblivion! He glanced to her again, hating what he saw in her eyes.

_You're weak_, they seemed to say. Erik despised any sort of pity, especially when it came from women. For so long he had been determined to keep his body fit and strong, and it seemed his efforts had been for nothing.

He was still human, damn it all, and ashamed of it.

Erik swallowed, wincing slightly at his raw throat. "I'll be fine," he said tightly, struggling to sit upright on his own. "I'd like to speak with my doctor."

Christine nodded quickly, "Of course, Erik. I'll find him for you,"

He watched her dart from the room, his beautiful golden dancer.

_Thank God it was me and not you, Christine._

* * *

Erik had made a few simple requests of Christine, and after all he had been through she would have happily gone to the moon for him. Instead, after speaking with his doctor, he'd only asked that she go to his loft and fetch a few things for him: shoes, a few changes of clothes, his favorite wristwatch, his laptop computer and a mask. He refused to allow any of his friends in to see him until his face was covered- his scars were no secret among them, but he was desperate to hold onto what dignity he still possessed and would be damned if anyone else saw him confined to bed with his scars on full, bright display. 

Erik had been noticably distant after speaking privately with his doctor, and Christine could understand. It must have been horrible for him; the pain, the fear, the drugs, the stark realities of his injury. Erik had never experienced such danger before, it must have been jarring for him to have learned just how close he'd come to meeting his end.

Once Christine had first seen Erik laying in his hospital room, she'd felt such impossible love for him; now that he was recovering she wondered how she had ever survived without him. She knew her adoration would make her a slave to him, and Christine would happily wear the chains if only for the chance to prove her love to him.

_I am yours, Erik, now and forever- I will be at your side for as long as you want me...I love you, I love you..._

While Erik had been unconscious, lulled to sleep by a cocktail of morphine and several other strong painkillers, Christine had been busy preparing for his return to the loft. She was filled with a new joy, and had done everything she could think of to make the loft perfect for him. Just the thought of him coming home, where she could care for him, made her giddy with excitement.

Bringing him a change of clothes was no trouble, in fact she wished he'd ask for more.

Christine brought him everything he'd asked, but had frowned as he'd opened the laptop and immediately began typing and clicking away, as if nothing had happened to concern him.

"Erik, why are you working now? You should be resting,"

He slanted a grin at her, "Oh, and let Maron and the rest of those boys handle all my contracts? I was shot in the chest, Christine, not the head."

She hadn't thought his joke was very funny.

* * *

Days passed, and Erik only grew more aggravated. 

Erik had been told by both nurses and doctors that he'd be hospitalized for a few more weeks, building back his strength. He would have to eat the food the staff served him, get up to stand with the help of an aide and walk for fifteen minutes, four times a day. Physical therapy was also recommened before he would be released into Christine's care, where suggestions of a temporary live-in nurse were mentioned.

True to form, Erik had ignored the orders of everyone- the nurses, his doctor, his friends and his thoracic surgeon. He'd challenged them at every turn; standing on his own, walking for twenty minutes every hour, then forty, always while dressed in his own clothes rather than the drafty paper gown provided to him. He insisted that he felt fine, and could manage perfectly well on his own.

Erik disregarded any mention of his chest wound, as if it had been as minor as the others, and took every opportunity to show the doctors charged with his care that he was recovering at a phenomenal rate.

"I'd think you might want to take it easier, Erik," Derek had told him when he'd been allowed in for a visit.

"And why would I want to do that?" Erik had challenged back. "I've been asleep for over a week, and I can't stand it in here. I'm making up for lost time- I'll crawl out of here on my belly if I have to!"

Derek had laughed, "I should have known you'd give the doctors hell for treating you as if you were one of us mere humans. And what's this talk of belly-crawling? You shouldn't even be standing and Claudette told me a nurse had to drag you back to your room after she found you on the roof. You weren't going to jump, were you?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Of course not- you think I lived through a shootout just to commit suicide? I just wanted some fresh after and sun."

"That's what they all say," Derek had teased.

Erik was not amused, he only wanted to get back to work, and from there he only asked Derek about the results of their latest lab experiment. As he'd predicted, the results had been promising.

* * *

Time passed slowly in the hospital, with one day blurring into another. Even with his laptop and Christine's devoted company, Erik was bored and restless, angry to be confined to his room. He wanted out of the damned hospital; he wanted to go to Central Park with the dogs, he wanted to take Christine dancing again and he wanted to get back to work. 

He had a life outside of the four white walls that made up his room, a life that he now knew with certainty could be taken away at any time.

_Damned if I'm not going to live it!_

Christine was proud that Erik was recovering so well, but his attitude had her worried. It didn't take a genius to see that a man like Erik, who had been self-reliant for so long, despised this new weakness in himself and the fact that so many people were reminding him of how he had to take it easy and not "overstrain himself" by walking too far or standing for too long. She wondered if he wasn't putting himself even more at risk with his need to prove that he had the strength to leave the hospital.

Erik was far too determined and far too stubborn for his own good. Every night, when Christine had to go back to the loft once visiting hours were over, Erik didn't waste any time idling in bed. He stretched his muscles, conducted business online and argued with his doctors.Simply, Erik had had more than enough time in the hospital- he'd be joyous if he never set foot in the building again.

No patient that had put up as much of a fight as he had could possibly need more care, he had said, and finally, the doctor had given in to Erik's demand. Feeling smugly triumphant, Erik had checked himself out of the hospital, practially whistling as he stepped out the front doors to greet the frigid night air.

He didn't want Christine to have to come back for him, it was freezing and for all he knew she might already be in bed; he thought it might be nice to surprise her at the loft. Smiling slightly, Erik also thought it would be nice to buy her a bouquet of flowers on his way back home.

_It's the least I can do for you, Christine, my angel..._


	34. Come Back Home

Christine unleashed the dogs and let them roam the apartment. They'd walked through a section of Central Park with Claudette, a new routine born of necessity. Without Erik, Christine didn't wish to walk through the park alone, especially at night. At least with Claudette, there was safety in numbers, not to mention the protection of her enormous Great Dane and the two Dobermans she was dog-sitting for Adele. King and Snow were well on their way to becoming the enormous beasts Erik had promised her, but they were still puppies despite their size.

_More likely to try playing with a mugger than protect me from one_, Christine thought with a slight smile as they moved off to the guestroom where their toys and chew bones were kept.

Christine sighed slightly as it struck her again how quiet the apartment was without Erik. It wasn't that he was a particularly loud or talkative man, but the loft just felt so empty without him. She had the strange feeling that this was his space, and she was simply holding the fort until he returned.

_The castle awaits its king._

With nothing left to do for the evening, Christine continued on as she had for several weeks; she made herself a small dinner, fed the dogs, watched a bit of television or read, and then prepared herself for bed. Quickly changing out of her stylish sweater and jeans, she glanced at the clock. It was early, barely even ten, but there wasn't any reason to stay up late.

_I have no one to talk to_, _and I won't go crazy and start talking to the dogs!_

In all the time that Erik had been in the hospital, Christine had slept in his bed. She thought it symbolic, in a way. She slept there, and would sleep there until Erik came back. She knew it wouldn't be much longer- Erik was able to walk, and she could sense that the doctors were growing weary with Erik's determination in proving them wrong at every turn when it came to his care.

He had gone to a lot of trouble just to prove that he could recover himself in a quarter of the time estimated; there were times when it seemed to Christine that he resented the doctors' diagnosis, and had shown his strength just for the sake of being difficult.

She smiled at the memory of Erik proving he could stand and walk when a doctor had brought him a wheelchair days after he'd first woken up. "If you think for one second that I'll use that thing, I'll have you stripped of your license," Erik had threatened. Christine knew it was unlikely he had the power to do so, but there was no doubt in her mind that Erik wouldn't try.

_So stubborn. I love that man…_

Christine hoped that he would be released soon so that she could take care of him. They hadn't had much time alone since he'd woken up; it seemed their visiting time was always interrupted by a doctor or a nurse checking his charts and vitals.

She longed for him, Christine was not in any was ashamed to admit the truth. It had been weeks without a kiss or an embrace, and even longer than that since they had made love. Christine felt heat softly rise to her cheeks as she remembered she and Erik's first night together. The way he had danced, tricking her into thinking he was a novice when he in fact had such command of the floor. She forgave him for the lie- he'd only been teasing her, after all. He had also been masterful in the bed, bringing her pleasure before taking his own. He was considerate, ardent, and gentle in a way that was foreign to her.

Truly, Christine regretted that she hadn't allowed Erik to take her again- that night could have very well been their only night. She wouldn't let another chance slip through her fingers. She wanted him, as she hoped he still wanted her. She no longer felt nervous or even slightly worried at the prospect- the thought of losing Erik completely was infinitely more frightening than the remembered pain of their first joining. 

The blonde sighed slightly to herself as she finished brushing her teeth, and then moved on to brush out her long hair. It had not gone unnoticed how much happier and at ease she was now that her time dancing in the club was over and done with.

Claudette, Raoul, and even Adele had all commented on her appearance, though Adele had done so in a back-handed sort of way. Something about her cheeks being "not quite as ashen as they were a few weeks ago". Christine had rolled her eyes, smiled and given her a tight "thank you" before saying how brave Adele was about avoiding the Botox craze, despite the obvious need. Some men appreciated an older woman, after all.

It was now a game they played whenever they saw each other; a bizarre friendship to be sure, but at least it kept her tongue sharp.

Christine strode into Erik's empty bedroom and stretched her legs, doing a few high kicks and spins just for the hell of it. When he was released from the hospital, she knew they would have a sit-down to discuss what was to be done with her future. She wanted to be with him, of course, but she was far too young to resign herself to the life of a housewife.

Erik had once mentioned something about her attending Columbia university, and he'd also said something about her dancing at the opera again. She didn't know if he was serious, or even what he wanted from her anymore- things had changed between them again, and Christine would do whatever he asked.

_Erik will be home soon. All that can be done now is to wait for him…_

* * *

Erik moved slowly up the streets leading toward his apartment building. It was only five blocks, a short walk by New York standards, but he had somehow forgotten about the bitter wind and the icy snow coating the ground. It irritated him, but he did not stop other than to buy a handful of cheap flowers from a street vendor. 

It wasn't his usual style, but there were no quality flower shops open so late on his way home.

_I'll buy her a proper bouquet tomorrow_, he thought to himself as he crossed the street to his building._ I'll take her out, buy her whatever she wants...I just want to be with her..._

Stepping into the lobby and out from the cold was wonderful- warmth and familiarity swept over him and Erik smiled. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed being home until that moment. He might have paused to greet the security desk, but the knowledge that Christine was upstairs, in his home and not expecting him prompted Erik to move toward the elevators. They had only been alone in his hospital room, and even then they'd often been interrupted. The hospital had hardly been the place for romance. He'd hated the four white walls of his room, and didn't want to dwell on his time there. 

The elevator took longer than he remembered, though Erik suspected that was due to his eagerness to be home.

Finally, the chamber lifted and Erik strode out, heading straight for his door. He stepped inside and was immediately greeted by the pups. Smiling, Erik stroked their smiling, panting faces, shushing them when Snow let out an eager bark. Christine hadn't noticed anyone enter the apartment yet, he thought it might be nice to surprise her. The loft was dark, though he could hear music coming from one of the back rooms- he had a CD player in his bedroom, but wasn't there also one in the guestroom?

Erik shut and locked the door behind him, allowing the dogs to trail after him as he walked about, reacquainting himself with his home. He tossed the flowers on the kitchen counter and took a quick look around. Very little had changed, as far as he could see, though there were a few subtle changes to be taken note of.

Christine's jacket was resting over the back of one of the chairs at the dining room table and a pair of pretty flats were on the floor beneath it. A handwritten grocery list was stuck to the door of the refrigerator- apparently they were out of milk and butter. Her purse was on the sofa, in her usual spot before the fireplace.

Erik smiled. So many telling clues that this loft was no longer in his sole possession- he shared his home with a woman now.

_Christine_.

He stuck his head in the guestroom, happy to find it empty.

Erik carefully slipped into his own room, thrilling inside to find her sleeping there in his bed. She belonged there, with him. Her pale hair was spread over the pillow. Erik lifted the top blanket to find her beneath the sheet, the material draping the silhouette of her long body. Her legs were parted slightly, her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath she took. Erik felt a deep hunger for her couple with his love; he felt invigorated, eager to prove to Christine just how virile he was. 

Erik shed most of his own clothes and his mask before slipping under the covers, moving in close and molding his body to the shape of hers. He inhaled the delicate scent of her, innocent of soaps or perfume. His fingers speared into her hair and Erik brought her lips to his, overwhelmed with his love for her, overwhelmed with happiness that he had recovered, he had _lived_, and he was with her again!

He kissed her until they were both breathless, and then finally released her after she struggled against him and he heard a subtle whimper escape her throat. Erik was about to tell her she was his life, but before he could open his mouth, a strong little fist connected with his jaw.

Erik grunted and reeled back as Christine scrambled out of bed screamed at him, "Get out! I'm calling the police!"

He fell back onto the bed and put his hands over his eyes, laughing at the insanity that his life had become since meeting this wonderful golden creature. "Christine, Christine, calm down! It's me,"

The girl had backed up to the bedroom door and, at the sound of his voice, she stopped her retreat and switched on the overhead lights. Erik was thankful that they were slightly dim. "Oh, God, Erik! I'm so sorry! I just, I was sleeping and I thought…I don't know what I thought, that you were a burglar or worse…I'm so sorry, are you all right? How did you get here, you're supposed to be in the hospital!"

Erik laughed again at her rambling confusion, and moved to sit up, grunting slightly as he did so. Christine was kneeling before him in an instant. "Are you hurt? Let me call the doctor,"

He shook his head and cupped her face in his hands, pressing the pad of his thumb to the center of her full bottom lip. "You are all I need," he breathed, his mouth drinking from hers. His hands lifted to bring her onto the bed, to have her lay atop him. She tasted just as he remembered from their first night together. Her tears of happiness were swept away under his thumbs as she gave him tiny weeps of joy.

Erik kissed her cheeks, rolling her onto her back, beneath him. He lay her down slowly, still kissing her, torn between wanting their kisses to last for eternity and the powerful urge to bury himself within her body, making her his once again. Christine was a different woman than the girl he'd taken to his bed before- there was no hesitation as she gripped his hair, kissing him fiercely. Her eyes locked with his in the dim light and her voice was strong, "Don't leave me," she breathed, "Don't you ever leave me again, Erik." 

"Never again," he growled against her throat.

Erik kissed her palms, playfully biting her fingers before bringing her hands above her head. He stripped the plain black camisole from her body, glorying in the sight of her. There was blood thundering in his ears, roaring his love and feeding his desire. Christine sighed against him, moaning his name as he kissed his way from her throat down to her breasts. His heart sang, exulting in her scent, knowing that this time she wanted him, all of him.

Erik lifted her against him, groaning aloud at the sensation of her skin on his. "Tell me you've missed me," Erik demanded, "Tell me everything,"

"I missed you, Erik," she whispered against his throat, "I was terrified. Did you hear me? I promised myself to you, anything you want, whenever, I love you, I'm yours!" She cried, arching against him as he moved a hand in between her slim thighs. Erik groaned- she was ready for him, only ever for him. He felt out of control then, and could only remove what remained of his clothes, spread his hands beneath her, lift her body to his and drive deep inside her.

Christine cried out, not in fear, not in pain. She cried out in love for him, from pure pleasure. Her arms came around his neck and she rose to him, her body convulsing around his, her nails raking his back. Erik drove deeper into her, crushing is mouth to hers.

Between them, there was love, and nothing else.

* * *

Erik reclined in bed, feeling wonderful. Making love with Christine had fulfilled him in a new way, and for once he was happy to simply lie back naked and enjoy the afterglow of a night filled with raw, tender, perfect sex. 

He was only half-asleep, just aware enough that he could sense Christine beside him, her small hands grazing over his skin. She was naked as well, lounging on her side like some great golden cat. Not the Erik minded. He wanted her as close to him as possible.

Erik opened one eye as he felt her fingertips gently probing a set of stitches on his waist. He hand moved to another stitched wound on his thigh. Her expression was concerned, almost sad as she touched the healing injuries. She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so glad that you're all right," she said quietly.

He reached for her, bringing her closer. In his usual way, Erik brushed the ordeal aside. "It was just one little bullet," he scoffed. "Did you really think that would be enough to keep me from you?"

Christine kissed his neck and shoulder, then slowly, lovingly, she kissed the healing wound over his heart.

Erik stroked her hair and kissed her lips. "I'm sorry that I missed Christmas and New Year's," he told her softly, suddenly thinking of the date. It was already near the end of January. The hospital had been a terrible way to spend the holidays. "I hope you'll accept a rain check on your gift?"

Christine laughed against him, "You don't have to get me anything, but now that I know how stubborn you are, I know you'll get me one anyway. Of course I'll accept a rain check. But nothing too fancy, Erik, you know me better than that."

He pointedly glanced down to her throat- she was wearing the sapphire pendant he'd bought for her, weeks ago, when they'd first began their relationship. "I know you well enough to know that no one else in the world can do justice with the gift I have in mind." He hinted, stroking a hand over her thigh, rising to her hip and cupping her backside in a gesture of possession.

Christine could only smile. It was wonderful to have him back.


	35. Curtains

_There truly is nothing like the legs of a ballerina_, Erik mused to himself as Christine slept beside him. Her head was resting over his shoulder, and one of her legs was draped over his lap. He reached down and stroked her thigh, thinking of the love they had made and recalling her stage debut at the Metropolitan Opera.

Erik had only been returned to his normal life for a little over one week; after giving his full statements and disclosures to the police, he had signed the order that Mama V's be foreclosed. He wasn't sure whether to convert the building into something more productive or to raze the place to the ground completely, banishing even the memory of the club where he'd found the love of his life.

_Christine, I do love you..._

Once they had awoken from making love on his first night back from the hospital, Christine had insisted on keeping him off his feet, in bed, and under her complete care. Erik had to admit that he had liked being waited on by the beautiful girl, but after a while he grew irritated with her acting as if he couldn't spare the strength to make himself a cup of coffee.

"I can manage, I promise you I'm fine. Christine, I didn't fight my way out of the hospital to be babied by you!" He had snarled.

Christine had shown her own new spirit to that remark, shouting at him that he was too stubborn and too dense to see that she only wanted to help.

They had yelled at each other for a while that day before finally making up. Erik smiled again, thinking of the ways that she had learned to "help" him since his return. There was nothing to separate them now; no secrets standing in their way, no more obligations to ruin what they were trying to build with each other. He stroked her waist. Christine curled closer to him.

_We are so perfect together, I don't think I could ever give her up. I will ask her soon... _

He sighed contentedly, stretching slightly, pleased not to feel the subtle, stinging pull of his stitches. He had recovered at a wonderful rate; his smaller wounds were nearly healed, though slightly tender, and the main shot in his chest was following suit. Erik glanced down at Christine's soft face and smiled. He was feeling back to his old self already.

* * *

"Erik? Erik, come on, wake up." Distantly, he could hear Christine's voice. Erik pulled himself into consciousness, though he was very reluctant. Christine had approached him last night, easily coaxing him into making love- it had been as passionate as it was tender, and left him feeling quite sated. He had no desire to wake up and face the day. 

_Unless the day includes making love with Christine again..._

"Why? Is there something wrong?" He asked groggily, wondering is the dishwasher was leaking onto the floor again. He'd been meaning to get it fixed, but he had been quite busy the past few days, both with Christine and with his recovery.

Erik finally opened his eyes, mildly surprised to see the girl up and already dressed for the day in a pair of tight dark wash jeans and a gauzy pink tunic. Christine shook her head and moved to sit on the bed beside him as he shifted onto his back. "No, everything's fine. I just got off the phone with Raoul. He's finally settled into his new townhouse and he's having his family over tonight for dinner. He invited us, too. Do you feel up for it?" She asked.

Erik smirked and lifted her to sit over his lap. He reared up to kiss her soundly on the lips. Even with the bedcovers and Christine's denim between their bodies, she could still feel his arousal pressed against her. "I'm always up for it," he joked. He smiled and watched as her eyes grew dark. "Erik," she sighed.

Teasing, he lifted her and tossed her onto the center of the bed. Erik rose to stand, stark naked and careless, moving toward the bathroom. "Right. Of course we'll go see your friend, let's go down to the market and pick up a bottle of wine to bring them for dinner."

She stared at his body, transfixed. "Oh, Erik, but what about...?"

"Christine, I'm an old man, are you trying to wear me out?"

She threw a pillow at his retreating back.

* * *

"Oh, awesome, you're early," Raoul greeted them at the door. He had chosen an upscale townhouse not far from Philippe, who lived only three blocks away. He admitted them inside and Christine looked around, smiling at the typical young bachelor decor- bare basics with only a hint of thought put into the arrangements. She could hear voices and paused, recognizing the other de Chagnys instantly. 

One never forgets their true family.

She swallowed, feeling stronger and instantly more at ease when Erik put his hand on the small of her back. Raoul lead them into his sunken living room where they were greeted by his parents, Philippe and the triplets.

"Oh, Christine it's so wonderful to see you!" Liane, Raoul's mother greeted her. Much like Claudette, Liane was tall, thin, and infinitely chic. Christine felt her throat catch and her eyes fill with tears; this woman had been more of a mother to her than her own mother ever was. She felt awkward and nervous suddenly, but she fell into Liane's arms easily, taking the warmth and familiar scent into herself.

Raoul's father Charles was next. His greeting was not so heartfelt, but there was no less warmth in his eyes when he welcomed her back to the family. The triplets Katie, Tessa and Heather were next, swarming Christine with hugs and kisses, all of them speaking at once.

Erik remained by the doorway with Raoul, giving Christine the space to reunite with the only real family she'd ever known since the death of her father as a young child. He smiled slightly, thinking how happy she was. There was a wide smile on her face and tears were shining in her eyes.

He could do no better for her.

Erik turned to Raoul. "Thank you for inviting us over tonight, Raoul. Look how happy you've made Christine."

The younger man smiled, his eyes on her. "Yes, I guess she finally felt ready to come back to us- look at her, falling right back into her old self with the girls," he said.

Erik glanced over to see Christine and the triplets sitting together on the sofa, apparently gabbing about hair care.

He raised an eyebrow at that_. Women!_

Raoul's parents came to greet Erik and within an hour it felt as if they all knew each other. There was soft, upbeat music playing and a drink in every hand as the de Chagny dinner party moved into full swing. There had been a bit of slow dancing where Christine and Erik took center stage of the living room, once their dance was over Erik was smarmed by the triplets for a turn and Raoul began to show off his skill with the piano. Even Erik had to admit the boy had talent.

Christine moved over to Raoul. "Thank you so much for this, Raoul. I can't tell you how much it means to me." She said as she hugged him.

Raoul shrugged, adoring her yet knowing that their chance had already passed them by nearly a year ago. He was fine with it, he couldn't ask for a better friend than Christine. "Well, it was no big deal. I thought you might have liked to get back to seeing everyone. I wasn't the only one that missed you when you disappeared last year." He said pointedly.

She glanced at the floor. "I know, Raoul, and I'm-"

The younger man shook his head, "Hey, hey, come on, it's all right. None of that matters anymore. All that matters now is that you're safe and you're happy and...Erik is seriously flirting with all of my sisters!" He said, looking over her shoulder.

Christine turned to follow his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of Erik on the sofa surrounded by the Weird Sisters, all of them making moon-eyes as he told the story of his shooting. She tried not to laugh as he was obviously enjoying so much of their attention. She moved a little closer to listen in on his tale of heroics.

"...I felt that a rage swept over me, and I jumped through the mirror to attack him. Gunshots rang out all around me, but I could only see _him_ and I knew that if I didn't stop him, no one would," Erik said, seemingly oblivious to Christine watching him. He couldn't help himself, it was such fun to show-boat for the younger girls!

"So what did you do?" Tessa asked him eagerly.

"I grabbed him and nearly killed him! Now, they tell me I was shot but I promise you, I don't remember it happening. I don't remember much of what happened at all that day, to be honest, but I woke up in the hospital days later with what felt like a massive hangover." Erik told them, joking slightly. "When I began discussions with the police after I woke up, they told me I'd nearly crushed his trachea, but once he recovered, he and all of his people would be sent to jail. Justice served, finally," he laughed.

Katie, the brunette, moved closer to him on the sofa. "Were you only shot once?"

Erik shook his head. "No, I was hit in a few other places. My waist and my thigh, but the shot to my chest was the only one to cause any real damage..."

Christine couldn't believe her eyes as she watched Erik flex his arm for the triplets to feel. Obviously the girls' adoration had gone straight to his ego. She had never seen him behave so outlandishly charming, and she had to admit that she was ready to shove Heather aside and take her place in feeling his bicep.

"Put a leash on that guy!" Philippe urged her as he joined them beside the piano.

"Wow, look at him work! We ought to take lessons from this guy," Raoul joked.

Christine rolled her eyes at them. "Relax, boys, he's harmless!"

Philippe shook his head, "No such thing as a harmless man when it comes to my sisters."

Raoul agreed wholeheartedly with his brother.

Christine laughed. "Well, all right, you're so worried they'll fall for him, I'll take him home."

Understandably, Raoul and Phil breathed a sigh of releif.

* * *

Erik kissed Christine's shoulder as he moved to stand behind her at the wall of windows. She had been playful with him the entire night, and had grown quiet since returning from the de Chagnys' dinner party. "Mmm, that feels good," she purred as he moved to kiss her neck, moving up to kiss her just behind her ear. 

"I hoped it would," he breathed against her. His hands wound their way around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

"You were a hit tonight," she told him in a whisper.

Christine felt rather than heard the deep rumble of his laughter. "You make that sound like a bad thing. I saw you watching me with the girls, you weren't jealous, were you?"

She smiled, even though Erik couldn't see it from his place behind her. "Erik, you know I love you, plus I'm a Scorpio...I'd be jealous if you were flirting with a street sign."

Erik nipped her, the delicate spot where her neck sloped into the curve of her shoulder. "I got carried away with those girls, but it was all harmless, I promise you. I've never been the type to even think of cheating."

Christine turned in his arms until they were face to face. "I know you aren't. Neither am I...but then again you're my first boyfr- ah, man." She said quickly, off his look. Trying not to laugh, she went on, "I had a great time with everyone. It was wonderful to be together like that, like a realy family. They are my family."

Erik nodded, kissing her. "You couldn't have chosen more wonderful people, Christine. Truly. I could see how much they care about you."

She brought her arms closer around him. "I love you, I love you," she sighed quietly while she reached up and removed his mask. She kissed both his cheeks. "Do you want to go to bed?" She asked.

Obviously, Christine didn't intend so sleep.

Erik smiled. "Is that a trick question?" He teased her.

In one quick motion, he swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall.

* * *

Hours later, Christine awoke to Erik nuzzling her neck. "Christine, wake up. I need to ask you something." 

"Hmm?" She asked, still half-asleep.

It was still pitch black in Erik's bedroom, but she could feel him move atop her, stroking her face. He kissed her cheek. "Christine. We don't have anything to run from any longer, do we?"

"No," she muttered, wishing Erik would just let her go back to sleep.

"So if we went away you wouldn't object?"

It was a struggle, but Christine forced her mind to focus on what he was saying. "Went away? What are you talking about?"

"Well, as I was...indisposed this Christmas and New Year's, I wasn't able to give you a gift. You've already told me not to bother with more jewelry or clothes, but how about something you've never seen before? I've made travel plans for us, Christine. Paris, London, Berlin...then, if _you're_ up for it, we might visit Sydney. The beaches there are beautiful..."

Christine blinked in the darkness. "Are you saying...?"

"That I want to take you away from New York for awhile? Keep you to myself and make love to you in a different city every night? Why, yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." Erih said baldly.

Christine reared up and found his lips with her own. "Oh, God, Erik! You're crazy! You're the weirdest, most impulsive insane man I've ever met!"

He laughed against her. "In this case I'll take that as a compliment. Did I mention, I want you to audition for the opera when we return from our trip? I won't be a judge, of course. That would give you a most unfair advantage, but with your talent and drive I know you will make it."

"Erik...it's too much..."

He laughed again. "I hate it when you say that. In my opinion it won't be enough until I've built you a shrine, but I'm sure you'd object to that. Maybe it'll be enough when you're my wife."

She gasped, "What?"

"You don't have to decide now, we don't even have to talk about it. I'm not saying now, but perhaps someday in the future, if you still feel the way you do...well, we are quite good together, don't you think?"

Christine kissed him, the only answer Erik would ever need.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ah, there's nothing like a happy ending, is there? I had a great time writing this fic, really and truly, it was a lot of fun! I hope that you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!**

* * *


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